Gone Missing
by Stryder2008
Summary: "I hate you!" Were the last words Sam said to Dean before he left for a hunt. One he never arrived at. Taken hostage after a chance encounter, Dean is drawn into a deadly game of torture and fear. Can Sam and John find Dean before there is nothing left to rescue? Or will Dean become the latest victim in the 'Game'. Contains Hurt!Dean Angsty!Sam. No slash, brotherly stuff only.
1. Chapter 1

**Legalities: ** _Supernatural does not belong to me, although I wish it did. I am simply playing in Kripke's sandbox for a bit. All rights and ownership are the property of Kripke and the CW network. I am not making any money from this; it is for my own personal pleasure._

**Synopsis:** _Dean is taken after a fight with a fifteen year old Sam. Clues are scarce and Sam is barely holding it together as he and their father search frantically for the middle Winchester…before the people holding him…torture him to death or force him to participate in a sick little game that they've been engaging in for years with unsuspecting young male tourists._

**Idea:** This little fiction has a storyline, but it is unabashed hurt!Dean with extremely angsty!Sam and worried!John. It will contain graphic depictions of torture as the story unfolds…if you don't like to read this type of thing, or if you are going to flame it…don't read it. _This is purely a selfish little piece_ that I decided to share.

**Please Review: If there is interest then I'll continue to post the chapters for this story. I debated on putting this one up at all, so let me know if you want more.**

**_Also, this is a very dark little piece of fiction, so please read all warnings at the start of the chapters, because there will be depictions of torture, like in this one, so be prepared and don't read it if you're not into this type of thing._ **

**Chapter One**

_Words can Torture a Soul_

The hunt that had brought the Winchester family to this little known backwater town in Alabama had been a gruesome one. Boys aged roughly fifteen to seventeen were disappearing in and around the town…no signs of them for weeks and then suddenly their bodies were found along a lonely stretch of highway. The boys were beaten and tortured, most of them emaciated from lack of food, their faces difficult to recognize, and some had even been raped. The local sheriff had no leads and the town was scared. John had come across this story about an old slavery ring that had been abolished more than two centuries before…so there was definitely a chance that this was something that would interest them. While he'd been leery about bringing the boys this close to something so violent, they weren't in school so he didn't have a good excuse for leaving them behind. He also wanted his oldest son to be there when he went after this spirit…the kid was good in a tight spot. He'd become an excellent hunter over the years…his youngest however, he wasn't ready to be involved at this level yet.

The Shady Acres Inn was a typical motel, family owned and out of the way, along the two lane highway that represented the only way in and the only out of the town. They boys had been staying here for the past two days alone, while their father tracked a lead and Dean and Sam were left to do research until they were called. That call came at precisely 2:34 pm. And now Dean was standing in front of the door, his head hanging low as he listened to his brother scream at him.

"I hate you!" The venom of those three words cut through all six feet and one inch of Dean Winchester like nothing else could have. He stared at the burnished handle of the door, his eyes closing and opening slowly and tried to swallow his anger and his frustration. His little brother stood in the doorway of the small bathroom, tears streaking down his fifteen year old face as he bellowed the three little words that would rip his older brother apart. He had known that they would, that was why he'd used them. Sam Winchester was so angry and hurt that he couldn't control the rage filtering through his teenage body. Dean swallowed around the thick lump that had immediately formed in his throat at the sound his brother's pain and anger. And the fact that he was the cause and was not in a position to offer any sort of consolation. He wanted to, but his dad had been very clear, '_Sam could not come on this hunt, he fit the spirit's type and could easily fall victim to its vengeful hatred_.'

Dean had calmly explained their father's reasons to his brother, but Sam had taken the information poorly. He'd assumed that by not taking him along, it was his father's way of telling him that he was still a 'kid' and that he wasn't ready to hunt with his nineteen year old brother yet. _Which was absolute crap!_ Sam thought angrily. Dean had been hunting with their father since he was ten…but not Sam…nope not him. They'd kept Sam away from the actual dangerous hunts…only forcing him into the same training routine as his brother…but without the same benefits or….level of trust.

"You don't mean that." Dean said quietly as he turned wide green eyes in his brother's direction. The rejection he was feeling, for once plainly written on his face. Dean usually wore a stoic mask that was difficult for even Sam to see through at times. The smattering of freckles standing out against his tanned skin, reflecting his inner turmoil; he lifted a hand and ran it through his short blonde hair in dismay. He hated to leave with Sam feeling this way…but he was due at the cemetery in an hour and his father would be royally pissed if he didn't show up on time…which meant fifteen minutes early.

Sam scrubbed at his tear soaked cheeks with the back of hand, wiping the offending trails of salt water away from his face. "Yes, I do." He said in a voice that sent tendrils of an almost tangible pain shooting through Dean. Because Sam actually did sound sincere…and that scared the crap out of Dean, that his brother might actually hate him...because that was not something he could live with. Dean loved his little brother more than anything in the world. He'd given up his child hood protecting the kid from every type of danger…both monsters and bullies alike. Dean had done things to protect Sam that he would take to his grave…things that Sam could never know about, because he might not understand the lengths to which a big brother would go to protect a little brother...espetially one as devoted as Dean.

Dean steeled his expression into one of cold indifference and finally nodded as he slowly pulled on his brown leather jacket. "Okay, Sammy." He said quietly as he pulled the door shut after walking through, his green eyes stinging from the pain rolling around in his heart.

"IT'S SAM!" His brother screamed from inside the room and Dean winced inwardly...wanting nothing more at that moment than to let the tears fall…he really did. But he had a hunt to get to…and a little brother to deal with when he was finished. And his father had drilled the idea, that real men don't cry, into him from a very early age...and that lesson had definitely stuck. Just a typical day in the life of Dean Winchester…hunter extraordinair and overall awesome big brother.

Sam stared at the closed wooden door of their motel room, his muscles trembling from anger and resentment. He still couldn't quite believe that he'd told his brother that he _hated_ him. He was seriously pissed at Dean…but _hate…?_ No he didn't hate his brother. He even thought about running after Dean to tell him that, to tell him to be careful on this hunt…he always said that to Dean before they were split up by their father's demands…but his pride held him routed to his spot on the thread bare carpet of their motel room. He'd just have to wait and explain it to Dean when both he and their father got back from the hunt.

Sam's breathing calmed slightly and he was finally able to think clearly past his rage…and as much as he hated to admit it…he knew that what Dean had told him had been for the best…he knew that he fit the pattern of victims that had brought them to this small town in Alabama. But it hadn't made him any less angry at the situation…all he wanted was to prove that he was every bit as ready to hunt the supernatural as his brother. But they kept him so protected that he rarely, if ever, got the opportunity to show them his worth. He sighed as he heard the Impala's engine and the crunch of the gravel as Dean pulled the classic black car out of the parking lot.

About ten minutes later Sam's cell phone rang…he glanced at the caller ID and grunted as he immediately pressed the 'ignore' button. He wasn't ready to talk to his brother yet. He was still too angry and there was a good chance that he'd just say more shit that he didn't mean.

XXXX

Dean didn't even bother to turn on the radio as he drove away from the motel. His emerald green eyes were still stinging with the emotional and physical pain of his little brother's hate filled words. He needed to stop obsessing over it. He grabbed his phone and checked for a message from his father…nothing. He knew better than to call John at this point. Dean had his marching orders…and his dad would just be angry at being interrupted in the middle of a hunt. He decided to try calling Sam and wasn't too surprised when all he got was voicemail. He slowed at a stop sign, glancing in each direction for cars or other traffic, the old highway was surrounded by thick forest and nothing else. No other cars or traffic of any kind on this deserted little stretch of blacktop. When he saw nothing he pulled forward just as a man ran out of the wooded area off to his right. Dean slammed on the brakes and stared at the man…he was almost naked, blood running and dried down the man's body, and he looked terrified; the man tripped on the rocks near the road and stumbled to his knees.

Dean was out of the car in an instant, trying to get the man's attention, so he could help. "Hey…buddy. You okay?" Dean asked as he slowly approached the last few feet, stepping carefully to the man's side, his gun resting comfortingly at his back. The guy, who looked to be about his age…nineteen or twenty at the most, was trembling violently, his head resting on his chest as he struggled to breathe. "Hey…" Dean tried again. Finally the guy looked up and his face contorted in pain as he finally managed to see the young man approaching him.

"Don't…." he said in a whisper. "Don't let…them…take you…alive." He gasped as his body gave out and he collapsed causing Dean to drop to his knees next to the now prone body. His fingers shooting out to check for a pulse at the base of the guys jaw where the artery was closest to the surface. There wasn't one. The man was dead…Dean started to pull himself to his feet, his cell phone back was in the Impala and he needed to call this in…his dad would just have to understand this once.

He never saw the blow that rendered him instantly unconscious, but blinding pain exploded behind his eyes as he fell forward and crashed into the unforgiving ground; his hands never even coming forward to try and break his fall.

"Hey, Silas…the one that got away…he didn't get away after all." The guy joked as vile sounding laughter bubbled up from somewhere deep inside his rank soul and he looked down at the body of half-naked man. Then he glanced over at the one he'd just knocked out wearing the leather coat. He leaned down and grabbed the kids shoulder, pulling the leather coat guy onto his back…and whistling low in his throat. He was darn pretty…he'd work just fine since the other one died on them. He reached down grabbed the kids chin, twisting his head from left to right….he had a strong jaw and full pink lips…he looked just young enough to interest the client and he looked strong enough to fight in the game as well.

"You're almost as perty as a girl." He said with a laugh that escaped easily through the gapped and rotted teeth. He looked up at the car idling several feet away…he supposed that they should hide that. But with the dead body and all, he didn't really have the time…not if he wanted to get this new prize back to the compound.

And he really wanted to play with his new toy…before the others arrived and took it from him. It wasn't often that they were able to start with someone as pretty as this kid was…it should make the coming weeks interesting indeed.

XXXX

To say John Winchester was angry would be an understatement. He reached up and pressed softly against the goose egg forming on the side of his head. His anger spiking as the pain jolted through him. He'd managed to take out the spirit on his own…but he'd gotten tossed around as a result of not having backup. And that brought him to his reason for being pissed. His oldest son was supposed to meet him at the cemetery at precisely 6 pm and he'd never showed. John had tried to call his cell exactly twice and then he'd finished the hunt alone. He trudged up the sidewalk to the motel room, his youngest son was probably spitting nails-angry at being left behind and he really wasn't looking forward to the argument that he knew they would be having.

He opened the door, his eyes adjusting to light inside the room. Sam was laying on his bed, nearest the bathroom, his stocking covered feet crossed at the ankles and his hands behind his head. Some sort of nature show was playing quietly in the background.

"So you're back." Sam stated without even looking in his father's direction. A fairly major form of disrespect as far as John was concerned. He glared at the lengthy form of his youngest son and walked over turning off the tv as he passed.

"Where's your brother?" He said gruffly. "I didn't see the Impala in the lot outside." John couldn't wait to hear what sort of excuse the boys had cooked up for Dean missing that hunt. _It'd better be that he's dead. _He thought with a sudden burst of irritation to pad his already seething anger.

_Well, thank you Captain Obvious._ Sam thought before he answered simply. "He was headed out to help you, last I saw him…that was the 'last order given', right?" The confused look on his father's face had Sam sitting up slightly and looking for his brother's leather coat wearing figure to come sashaying through the door. He was usually right on his father's heels. That was one of the things that they fought about, Dean's unfailing loyalty to their father's need for vengeance.

"He never showed." John said as he pulled his cell phone out and again dialed Dean's number. His anger getting trumped by the worry, that was building quickly inside of him, when the phone call again went to voice mail. He hung up and sat down wearily on the bed, it was too early to say that something had happened to his son. But there was a rational part of John's brain that knew that Dean would never just 'not' show up to a hunt. Not unless something very bad had happened and he'd been unable to get there.

Sam was sitting up straight now, his blue-green eyes widening, as he watched his father process the fact that neither one of them knew exactly where his brother was. He was supposed to be at the hunt…he wasn't…and now they had no clue where he was. _Oh God…and the last thing I said to him was that I hated him._ Sam swallowed his guilt, reaching up to run his fingers through his long brown hair, fear building quickly inside the teenager and then he moved to sit next to his dad. "He left at five to meet you at the cemetery by six pm. He never came back here." Sam offered what little information he knew in the hopes that it would point them in a direction. His head was spinning, his brother was missing and he'd left thinking that Sam hated him…and Sam had done that _on purpose._ He'd wanted his brother to be as hurt and miserable as he was…and now there was a possibility that he might not get to set that right. _No, Sam….don't think like that. Dad will find Dean and he'll be fine…and I can tell him I didn't mean it…any of it._ Yeah, that's what would happen, because any other possibility just wasn't acceptable in Sam's eyes.

"Sam grab your stuff. We'll go check out the roads." John ignored the pounding in his head as he felt a very uncomfortable feeling start curling in his gut…something had to have happened to Dean. They were out the door in moments and it occurred to John as he was firing up his truck again, that obviously Sam wasn't as slow to get moving as he'd been letting on. They'd have to have a discussion about that in the future…but right now, they were both too worried about Dean to deal with petty arguments. They'd driven for about fifteen minutes, just turning onto an old highway, that was in desperate need of repairs, when Sam sat bolt upright and clawed at the window.

"Dad! Stop!" Sam cried as he saw the fender of Dean's beloved Impala sticking out of some bushes. It looked like he'd run off the road…Sam gulped back his building panic as he threw open the door of his dad's truck and sprinted for the car.

"Sam!" John called trying to halt his son's head long flight into _God knows what._

Sam ignored his father's frantic voice and skittered to a halt, pulling branches away from the car in his haste to see inside. His heart plummeted when he didn't see a damn thing. No sign of his brother…he looked again and saw the glint of something metallic. He pulled the door open and crawled into the car, grabbing Dean's cell phone from the passenger seat. Guilt washed through him again as he noticed that the last number dialed was his…the call from his brother that he had ignored because he was angry.

His father's hand landed on his shoulder and pulled him around, but the look on Sam's face must have halted whatever reprimand had been poised on his lips. Because he just stared at the broken look on his sons face and then looked at the phone held limply in his hands. "He's gone dad….missing." Sam whispered as silent tears rolled down his face.

XXXX

Dean was pulled back into the conscious world by the splash of bucket of ice cold water. He sputtered when he realized that he couldn't see and his mouth was covered in a gag preventing him from pulling in a full breath of air. His arms were tied above his head and he was leaning against some form of a wall. He groaned when he realized that his shirts were missing as were his shoes, he could still feel his jeans, thank god, but that was it. He shivered a little as the cold water ran down his chest and pooled in his lap.

"Wakey wakey…my little consolation prize." a male voice said as he felt a finger run up his chest, starting at his navel and tracing his body all the way up to his neck. He shuddered at the unwanted physical contact and bucked his body trying to force the hand away. He managed a growl deep in his throat when the hand simply changed direction and dropped back down his chest only coming to a stop when it rested on the top of the waistband of his jeans. "So pretty….so very pretty." It whispered and Dean felt the first real currents of fear and panic course through his system. A second hand joined the first and ran over the hard plains of muscles that lined Dean's ribcage running behind him and dropping to rest just above his waist again, his muscles twitching in disgust as he was forced to allow the contact. Dean bucked his body once again and succeeded in hitting the man in the face with his own throbbing head...hearing a satisfying crack in front of him.

"Ugh…" the man cried in obvious pain and then Dean felt a hand smash into his face. He felt like his teeth had been knocked loose by the force of this man's blow. "Bad idea…" the man said. Suddenly Dean felt fire flare across his hipbone as something cut into the skin where it was currently stretched taught over the bone...it wasn't like he had body fat to pad his stomach...so the knife pretty much hurt like hell as it bit into his flesh.

"Mmph…" Dean managed around the gag in his mouth. He could feel the blood flowing freely and the pain was every bit as disconcerting as the feeling the liquid dripping down his skin. He wanted to cry out…to scream…but he was unable to do anything. His one thought was that his father should know he was missing by this time and hopefully he would be looking for him. Dean couldn't help the anguish that flooded through him at the thought that Sam might not go with their father to search for him. That his little brother might be too angry with Dean to care about what happened to him…at least not yet. Dean knew that the longer he was missing the more worried his brother would become. And later…when the guilt ate away at him, he would care about where his big brother was. Sam was easy to read, afterall Dean had been doing it his entire life…he knew that Sam was just angry and that he would be panicked when Dean didn't show back up after a while. He just hoped that he was still alive when they found him…and that he wasn't broken in some other more violent way. Dean wasn't stupid; he knew that the comments from his captor meant very-bad-things were likely in store for him.

"Gonna teach you some manners boy…" the voice said angrily and the next thing Dean knew he ws being flipped around and his jeans were roughly jerked from his body as he tried valiantly to fight back. Terror was now flooding his thoughts as he felt the cooler air hit the backs of his thighs. He was grateful that he'd at least worn boxer shorts today…because often times he didn't. Tears were forming in his eyes at the thought of what he thought was coming…he wasn't prepared for the feel of a leather strop as it collided with the naked flesh. His surprise mixed with his rising panic as the leather struck several more times before the guy finally allowing Dean's body to sag against the wall. Sweat or maybe it was blood…he didn't know for sure, slipped unchecked down his back. Pain was flooding his senses as he tried to remain conscious. A rational part of his brain was afraid of what might happen to him if he lost his grip on the waking world.

He shuddered as he felt the hands again touch his body as they slid through the moisture on his lower back and then there was blinding pain as something sharp cut into his flesh. Dean screamed low in his throat as he felt himself getting light headed from the pain. He didn't know what the psycho path wanted and he was terrified of finding out. Something raw escaped his chest and he didn't even recognize it. It was the primal sound of a trapped animal about to become a victim. And Dean was a lot of things…but he'd never thought of himself as a victim. Part of him almost hoped that he didn't make it out of this mess…but the part that knew that Sam would never forgive if he died...continued to struggle as the knife cut into his flesh over and over again. When the systematic cuts ceased Dean found that his head was barely holding onto coherent thoughts anymore…and he was definitely not prepared for the leather to again be applied viciously to his now definitely bloody back. Blood hand soaked through the thin material of his cotton shorts and ran unchecked down his thighs, only to pool beneath him as he hung limply from the chains and cables suspending his body.

Finally the pain and loss of blood took their toll and Dean felt his mind slip into a world of pain free darkness that existed only inside his own mind. His last thought was an apology to Sam…

When he was again roused from the darkness as a distinctly agonizing pain threaded itself through his lower back. He felt as though he'd been burned and then suddenly he felt the white hot thrust of fire as pain shot through him and the feeling of something cauterizing the wounds on his body. He couldn't hold the cry of pain that erupted from his throat…his back arching away from the agony. He was dismayed when the only sound he made was a weak hoarse moan.

"Hold still boy…gotta staunch the bleeding before tomorrow." It wasn't the voice from earlier, but it didn't sound at all that friendly either. He groaned into the gag as he wished once again that the men would take the damn tape off his eyes, they were starting to burn as his sweat mixed with the chemical adhesives. He hated not being able to see. While it was Sam that was intensely afraid of the dark…at least outwardly…Dean also had a deep routed fear of the dark. And being gagged and blindfolded and then tortured was almost like being trapped inside his own mind.

"Silas was pissed at what Kale did to you boy…we can't heal it…but we can stop the bleeding and get you fixed up for the games." Once again the white hot, _it must be an iron rod or something,_ was laid against his skin and Dean felt his head swim as pain coursed through him.

He wanted to ask about these 'games' they kept mentioning…but he couldn't speak around either the gag in his mouth or the constantly shifting thoughts as he tried to grab onto to one of the floating things…but they would break apart like trying to grasp a cloud of smoke in one's hands…it just wasn't possible.

TBC…

**Author's Note:** _As I said this fiction is purely a selfish little one. I wanted a strictly hurt Dean with very angsty young Sam. It is my first time writing them younger than when they appear in canon, so be a little kind on that note. This story has an arc to the torture and there is an underlying hunt involved. Although, what happens when it isn't supernatural? How will Sam and John deal with a hunt that has no leads and has Dean thrown into the mix? My Current plan is to update this on Wednesdays each week, sometimes sooner if the mood strikes, but no later than that. _

**Please Review: Even though I wrote this kinda for an outlet, I'd like to know if others are interested in seeing it continued.**


	2. Breaking a WInchester

**Legalities: **_Supernatural does not belong to me, although I wish it did. I am simply playing in Kripke's sandbox for a bit. All rights and ownership are the property of Kripke and the CW network. I am not making any money from this; it is for my own personal pleasure._

**Synopsis:** _Dean is taken after a fight with a fifteen year old Sam. Clues are scarce and Sam is barely holding it together as he and their father search frantically for the middle Winchester…before the people holding him…torture him to death or force him to participate in a sick little game that they've been engaging in for years with unsuspecting young male tourists._

**Idea:** This little fiction has a storyline, but it is unabashed hurt!Dean with extremely angsty!Sam and worried!John. It will contain graphic depictions of torture as the story unfolds…if you don't like to read this type of thing, or if you are going to flame it…don't read it. _This is purely a selfish little piece_ that I decided to share.

**Please Review: If there is interest then I'll continue to post the chapters for this story. I debated on putting this one up at all, so let me know if you want more.**

**_Also, this is a very dark little piece of fiction, so please read all warnings at the start of the chapters, because there will be depictions of torture, like in this one, so be prepared and don't read it if you're not into this type of thing._**

**Chapter 2**

_Breaking a Winchester_

Sam was sitting on Dean's bed back at the motel, his whole body rocking with barely suppressed fear for his older brother. He'd grabbed his brother's duffel and riffled through it until he'd come across the sweatshirt that he'd bought for Dean several years ago…and it smelled of his brother. He had pulled the faded black material over his head and pulled his knees to his chest in a small effort to comfort himself. The room was too silent without his brother. Dean always either had the TV on, was chattering about something he deemed intensely important…or he was singing, off key, just to irritate his little brother.

It had been twelve hours…twelve hours since Sam had told his brother that he hated him…and then Dean had gone missing. Their father was calling everyone at his disposal trying to determine just what could have taken his son without leaving any trace of…well anything. The Impala had been cleaned of everything, but Dean's cell phone and that worried the elder Winchester, because as meticulous as Dean was with that car…he always left a can or something thrown in the back seat from long drives. But even those had been cleaned out of the car before it was stashed. And Sam knew that if Dean had been able, he never would have allowed anyone to drive that car…so that meant that he _hadn't_ been able to stop it…which meant he'd been knocked out.

The local sheriff hadn't been any help at all. They already knew that there was something happening in their county. Boys would go missing about the same time each year…and they were never seen until their bodies turned up…most too mutilated for the police to make a positive identification without dental records. That thought had John shifting uncomfortably in his chair as he looked over at the blank faced stare of his youngest son. He wasn't all that sure that he could give Sam what he needed without Dean around. The kid hung on his brother's coat tails like a blind man looking for a guide dog. That had always been John's intention for his sons…for them to rely on each other for support and not necessarily on him. As he watched Sam, he wondered if that had been such a great parenting plan after all. Because as easily as his boys could lose him…they could just easily lose each other to something that goes 'bump in the night'.

John wasn't sure why Sam was so quiet, he'd fully expected Sam to be pestering him to get out of the motel and search the entire county if that was what it took to find Dean. But he wasn't demanding anything; he was just staring at the wall and rocking. Finally, John couldn't take the odd behavior anymore. "Sam? What happened before Dean left?" Because the only time he ever saw either of his sons in this state, was when they'd argued with each other…and someone had said something truly terrible.

Sam finally pulled his weary gaze from the wall and connected with his father's concerned blue eyes. "Doesn't matter dad…I might not get to make it right." Sam said in a broken whisper, his expressive eyes pooling in tears as guilt coursed through him.

John stood and crossed from the chair he'd been occupying and sank down onto the bed next to his distraught son. "Sammy…we are going to find Dean. And whatever happened between you guys, I'm sure…"

Tears sprang over in Sam's expressive blue-green eyes as he turned to face his father and at the same time cut him off. "I told him I hated him, dad…" He cried suddenly and then collapsed against his father. This was something that Sam hadn't done since he was a kid and John found his arms pulling his fifteen your old son closer as he literally sobbed into John's chest.

John was stunned. He knew that his boys could get a little carried away. And he was definitely aware of the shift in Sam's attitude over the last few years, being _he_ was normally on the end of Sam's angry words. But he never thought that Sam would tell his brother that he actually _hated _him. John winced as he realized what that would have done to his oldest son. Dean loved his brother on a level that was more like that of a parent for a child than a brother for a brother. Although that shouldn't surprise John since Dean had pretty much raised Sam since the age of four. "Sammy…Dean knows that you didn't mean that…"

"No he doesn't…" Sam hiccupped as his emotions tore through his body. "He told…me I didn't mean…it. And I…said I did." He couldn't look at his father as he admitted to one of the worst mistakes he'd ever made…at least in his young mind.

John furrowed his eyebrows together and reached up to run his hands over his sons back in a comforting gesture. They sat like that for…who knew how long…before Sam finally started to get himself back under control. He shifted so that he was sitting a little further from his dad as John reached over and grabbed some tissue from the nightstand. Sam blew his nose and then wiped his eyes with a second handful of tissues. He turned destroyed red eyes on his father and sniffed one more time before saying. "We have to find him dad. I can't….live with what I said…if he's…" Sam had to stop as the lump in his throat threatened to overwhelm again.

His father simply nodded and patted him on the shoulder. "We _will_ find him Sam." He said with a sincerity that he didn't really feel.

Sam nodded. "Okay…where do we start looking dad?"

John wiped his face as he considered that very _good _question. The hunt that had brought them here hadn't turned out to be the one that John had been on today. That had been an irritated spirit who'd been pissed about his field being plowed under…that field also happened to double as his grave. But the hunt they'd though they were here on was much more nepharious. The boys that had gone missing were Sam's age and they were always take at the start of the harvest season…and then their bodies were discovered in forms over the course of the next three weeks until they were all accounted for…and dead. The things that had been done to those boys made the bile rise in the back of John's throat…because if for some reason Dean was involved in that hunt. There was a very good chance that whoever or whatever had his son was torturing him at this very moment and that actually made John swallow the bile back down his throat as it threatened to spill out his clenching jaw.

He was scared…John Winchester was legitimately scared. Scare for the life of his eldest son…and petrified of what it would mean for his small family if something happened to Dean. He was the heart and the glue that held John and Sam together…without him? How would they survive?

XXXX

Dean's head was fuzzy as he felt himself surfacing from the exhausted and not at all restful sleep he'd fallen into after the man had finished burning his wounds closed. The stench of burned flesh was still hanging in his nostrils as he tried to pull in enough air to feel less light headed. The pain from the cauterization had been almost more than he'd been able to take, but thoughts of what might happen to him if he'd loss his head and that kept him on the edge of consciousness. The slight burning sensation of the sensitive skin surrounding his eyes made him wonder if there was some sort of reaction happening between the adhesive and his body. He'd wanted to puke at least twice in the last twenty four hours and he'd managed to force it back down his throat. Mostly, because with the gag tied tightly in his mouth…he would probably have choked to death…and wouldn't that be an ending fitting for a _hero_…asphyxiated on his own fluids. He listened carefully to the noises in his room, before deciding that he was probably alone. A groan escaped his chest as the pain launched through his body with a viciousness that made him pull in tiny pants of air through his nose.

Dean could suddenly hear the building sounds of voices coming from somewhere outside wherever he was being kept. He shifted slightly and pain flared in both of his shoulders and along his lower back as he tried to focus on just breathing through the pain as his father had taught him. Thoughts of his little brother and the worry that he knew Sam would be feeling along with the guilt that would also be causing his brother emotional pain making him ache inside. Dean could never handle Sam hurting…and that hadn't changed as the kid aged even though his outward reaction to Dean's presence had.

A sudden raking metal on metal sound caught his attention as footsteps followed the noise and approached where Dean was being kept. He felt a hand encircle his upper arm and started to haul him to his feet, it wasn't gentle by any means and Dean held his breath waiting for more. "Come on kid. It's time to meet the others." The man pulled Dean to his feet and then shifted his arms, causing the blood to flow back into the starved muscles and pain to shoot through his body. His knees nearly buckled as he was set on his unsteady feet by the voice. Dean finally got his legs locked in place as the man stepped up behind him and Dean took a chance. He kicked out behind him with his foot, and then twisted bringing his hands down in a sweeping arc, since the man had placed them in front of him instead of behind his back. He felt the satisfying crunch as his fists slammed into the man's face and a then a grunt as Dean heard a body hit the floor. He was instantly dropping to his knees and feeling through the man's pockets, his fingers closing around the cool metal of knife.

Dean brought the knife up to the tape that was securing his world in darkness and tried to carefully cut himself free. He suppressed a cry of dismay when the knife slipped and he felt it bite into the skin at his temple and then the slick feeling of blood coating his hand and dripping down his jaw. He finished cutting the tape as quickly as he could and then tried to pull his sticky swollen eyelids open when they didn't immediately open on their own. He finally got a look at the things securing his wrists together. Dean had known that it wasn't rope, but he hadn't expected it to be cables. He reached up and pulled the gag from around his jaw and the dirty rag from between his lips; pulling in deep gulps of air as he spit out the rancid taste that was left behind after the removal of the restraining materials. The room smelled of sweat and blood and had him gagging back the bile once again rising up from his rolling gut.

His vision was a little blurry from being blinded for the last several hours and use of the adhesive tape that had secured it to the delicate skin around his eyes that was now burning like he'd spilled chemicals on it. He was just turning to try and get a look at the man that he'd knocked out, when he felt a hand grasp his ankle and pull his legs out from under him. Dean hit the flood hard, his hip slamming into the concrete and his left shoulder popping painfully out of the socket as he wasn't even able to catch himself. He cried out in agony as the fire in his lower back became nearly debilitating and he struggled to stay conscious. "You son of a bitch!" The man growled as he pulled himself to his feet and stared down at the injured hunter. "You're going to pay for that. They can just figure out something else with the games."

Dean's head was swimming as his hands were pulled above his head again, his dislocated shoulder screaming in pain as he was lifted so that his toes barely touched the floor. The air pulsing against his naked torso and the slight breeze that whispered over the bloody wounds on his body let Dean know that he was definitely still alive. He bit his lips and tasted the acrid blood as it filled his mouth when he split his own lip on his teeth. The fist that slammed into his suspended body echoed through the small room, and the resounding crack of a breaking rib had Dean crying out in pain. He tried to see the man that was probably going to beat him to death…but all he could make out was a shiny metal piece on the man's left front pocket…something in his brain told him that the shiny silver piece of metal meant something…but he couldn't hang onto his thoughts long enough to connect the meaning.

The blows rained down on his battered body until Dean was barely conscious and then he felt his chest being twisted as the man flipped him around so that his back was facing out instead of his chest. The last bit of humanity he was hanging onto was ripped from his body until he was hanging naked and battered against the concrete wall. Dean had just enough lucidity to realize that he was now completely naked and yet he was far enough gone that he couldn't even feel ashamed about it. He bit back a cry as the leather was again applied to his back, long sweeping arcs that bit deep into his abused flesh. This time there was jagged metal applied to the ends of whip now. The application of the leather opened the burned cuts from the day before and Dean found that he could no longer hold his cries…he screamed until his voice gave out and his head dropped forward as he let himself drop into the welcoming darkness.

Visions of Sam haunted his world of darkness. His little brother trying to make his way in a world that didn't and could never fully understand him; a world where only Dean knew how to protect the kid…and yet he knew that he had to survive if he was going to continue protecting Sam. But he was just so damn tired and fighting was feeling like he was trapped in mud.

"He can't participate like this Kale! What the hell were you thinking?" A voice threaded its way through Dean's dark world. He winced as his head exploded in pain and then it continued to race through the rest of his body. His shoulders and his back coalescing in a furnace of agony as he stayed as still as possible…listening the best he could to the men talking just outside his room. Dean debated on opening his eyes and then decided against it as his stomach rebelled at the mere idea.

"He was trying to escape Mason…what was I supposed to do?"

"Knock him out and tie him back up…not beat the hell out of him before the game even begins. How's he gonna run like that?" The other voice sounded angry with a hint of worry. Dean tried to keep his head on straight as he fought the ebb and flow of unconsciousness. This was likely the only intel he would be able to gather…so while all he wanted was to pass out from the pain…he couldn't…he had to stay awake.

"He'll be fine…the kid'll either run or he dies…either way…that's what the people pay to see." The second voice was deeper, and had a thick southern accent that made Dean think of the gap toothed man he'd seen at the gas station earlier in the week. But the image was just beyond his grasp as he moved and the rib that was broken by the man with the messed up face, shifted and his head swam. _Sammy…I'm sorry kiddo…_his brain shut down with the electrical impulses flashing through his body and the pain he couldn't escape.

XXXX

Outside the cement bunker where Dean was still suspended from the ceiling stood several cages…each cage holding a man…a young man. Most of them were scared and sitting quietly on the small bed roll that was provided to them. One of the boys was pacing his cage like an animal…he had a bigger cage than any of the others…he was scared and didn't speak or even look at the people surrounding him. He watched the bunker where the bait was being kept. He licked his lips in anticipation of the upcoming hunt. He was going to win this year…he'd only missed killing the bait by minutes the last time. Somehow the guy had escaped and made it to the highway…that wouldn't be happening again. Silas had seen to that…well, he'd allowed Kale to ensure that the bait wouldn't be in any condition to try an escape plan. The clients would get what they paid for…a bloody kill…and an interesting hunt before the bait was thrown in…

TBC…

**Author's Note:** _This will continue to be pretty dark and Dean is gonna have to pull from reserves of strength that he probably doesn't even know he has. But this is not a death fic, I don't do those…Sam and John will start closing in on this little venture and then how will they manage to save Dean from a crazy group?_

**Please Review: I know this is dark, but like I said it is a selfish little fiction. Let me know what you think.**


	3. Deans Struggle

**Legalities: **_Supernatural does not belong to me, although I wish it did. I am simply playing in Kripke's sandbox for a bit. All rights and ownership are the property of Kripke and the CW network. I am not making any money from this; it is for my own personal pleasure._

**Synopsis:** _Dean is taken after a fight with a fifteen year old Sam. Clues are scarce and Sam is barely holding it together as he and their father search frantically for the middle Winchester…before the people holding him…torture him to death or force him to participate in a sick little game that they've been engaging in for years with unsuspecting young male tourists._

**Idea:** This little fiction has a storyline, but it is unabashed hurt!Dean with extremely angsty!Sam and worried!John. It will contain graphic depictions of torture as the story unfolds…if you don't like to read this type of thing, or if you are going to flame it…don't read it. _This is purely a selfish little piece_ that I decided to share.

**Please Review: Thank you so much to all of you that reviewed the previous chapter. It was great to hear what you thought. Thank you to all 'Guest' reviewers that I cannot PM. Please continued letting me know what you think. **

**_Also, this is a very dark little piece of fiction, so please read all warnings at the start of the chapters, because there will be depictions of torture, like in this one, so be prepared and don't read it if you're not into this type of thing._**

**Chapter Three**

_Dean's Struggle _

"Damn-it, Kale! I said keep him from getting away…I didn't say anything about beating the hell out of the bait! How the hell do I explain this…" he gestured to Dean's battered body… "To the investors?" Silas yelled, the vein on his forehead pulsing as his anger raged unchecked through his system. "God damn-it. Get Fillmore. Tell him it's an emergency." Silas twisted his large frame and stared at the cages holding the other contestants. He glared at Kale and Mason as he shook his head and then cast his gaze at the boy lying on the wooden table. "Take him to the medical tent. He can't even participate in that condition…and there are only two weeks until the clients arrive for the game. If he's not healed enough to participate by then, I'm taking it out of your hides…or better yet…you can take his place." Silas's voice dropped to a cold grizzled tone and he slammed his fist onto the table in emphasis. Mason looked over at Silas and they both nodded immediately, the color draining from their faces. The gold star on Silas's chest glinting in the setting afternoon light... "Do not let this happen again. It's too close to the start of the game to find a new piece of bait." He stomped off leaving the other two men looking at each other in dissatisfaction. Neither of them liked to be told what to do…and this battered piece of meat on the table wasn't helping their negative feelings any.

The two men continued to look at each other, their eyes wide…neither of them wanted to be on the receiving end of this man's temper. He could be more violent and vicious than either of them…or the two of them put together.

XXXX

_Sammy ran as fast as his little four year old legs would carry him. He glanced over his shoulder, screams of laughter echoing through the playground as he saw his brother chasing him. He skittered around the slide and hid beneath the large muti-colored plastic circle. His tiny hands coming up to cover his mouth as Dean looked everywhere but where he was hiding, his dimples digging into his chubby little cheeks._

_"Sammy?" Dean called loudly for his brother; his eight year old voice ringing through the silent park. Most other kids were with their families today…having the traditional Thanksgiving meal __of turkey, potatoes, and pie…but not the Winchester boys…nope…they were send out of the room by their father to entertain themselves and stop running through the motel like chickens with their head cuts off. Dean knew that his father had bought each of them their own turkey dinner for later, and even bought a whole pie for dessert. Secretly he was the most excited about the pie…and also the fact that their father hadn't sent them to Pastor Jim's or Bobby's this year, in favor of some hunt._

_Dean could see Sam's tiny feet sticking out from beneath the big brightly colored toy and he smiled to himself as he looked over in the sandbox and then along the swings, staying clear of his little brother's hiding space. Finally he threw his hands up in the air and sank onto the wooden side of the sandbox. "Guess, I'll never find Sammy…" he said loud enough for his brother to hear. _

_Sam's peals of laughter filled the silence and he squirmed out of his hiding spot and ran full speed to Dean, throwing himself into his brothers waiting arms._

_"I'm not lost D'in…I'm right here." He said in his high-pitched voice that made Dean smile. He wrapped his arms around his brother and hugged him tight. Sam was wearing several layers of clothing, all of it too big for his small frame, to protect against the biting cold of the Michigan winter, his cheeks were pink from both running and the frosty bite in the air. He grinned a gap-toothed grin. "Love you, D'in" He said as he hugged his brother with all the strength a four year could possess._

Dean felt himself twisting in and out of consciousness; pain a constant but distant reminder that he was still alive. The hard surface beneath him also alerting him that he had not wound up in some silk lined coffin…maybe a pine box… He thought he remembered hearing a man with a slight accent speaking, but he couldn't quite remember. Something felt off about his chest, tight, and stiff…like…_Oh…broken ribs…right._ Dean wasn't sure who had wrapped them…but he'd had it done often enough in his nineteen years to know what it felt like. His shoulder wasn't happy with him either, he thought he remembered it being dislocated at some point…but he wasn't quite sure….the memories were really fuzzy and difficult to separate from the pain. He tried to perform a self-assessment for any other injuries…and found that his back and his hip were the only other points that felt weird and compressed or confined by a triage attempt of some sort. Bandages were wrapped securely and taped to the skin of his back...he was lying on his stomach…which was odd, since he rarely actually slept on anything but his back. He could also feel an odd hole in the surface he was lying on, one where his hips were currently positioned over.

"Don't move kid…they'll know you're awake." The male accented voice said as a hand pressed against his shoulder….and that didn't feel too good. _Oh…dislocated shoulder…right._

He groaned and nodded slightly, slight pain pulsing through his body at the movement. Dean could smell antiseptic and alcohol…although he wasn't used to the two in the same room…but they were definitely both wafting through the stagnant air, making his stomach roll in question. His eyes were still heavy and there was a slight feeling of swelling behind both eyelids.

"I'm Dr. Fillmore…I was asked to look at you." The accent continued as a pair of black work boots parked themselves below Dean's eyesight. He'd finally managed to pull his eyelids open and he was currently blinking slowly as he tried to bring the dirty leather shoes into focus. He grunted in response, his throat tight and dry…he could feel where an IV had been inserted into his right hand, so he assumed that he'd been given fluids. As he continued to move slightly one other strange feeling made him cringe, he had a catheter inserted…and the burning and extremely uncomfortable feeling that caused was making him want puke. "You've been unconscious for the better part of a week. I am removing the catheter today and then I will be re-bandaging your ribs and back. Silas wants you ready to compete by the start of next week…and…while it'll be painful…you'll be ready."

Dean tried to move further and realized too late that he was attached to the table he was laying on. His arms were manacled and chained to the lower part of the bed….and his legs were also manacled along with a leather strap securing his waist to the table…face down. The cuffs were made of leather instead of metal and for that small comfort Dean was intensely grateful. "I need to get…out of here." Dean croaked in a raspy voice; his mind was trying to make sense of what the man had just said…If he'd heard that right, Dean had been here for roughly a week and his father and brother would be worried out of their minds at this point. "My brother…and dad…they'll be worried." He wasn't sure if the man would care one way or another…but he figured that he'd try to play the sympathy card…after all, what did he have to lose at this point?

"I'm sorry son…I can't help you." The accent said as Dean felt the man place calloused, but gentle hands on the bandages as he began to pull them free from Dean's lower back. His muscles twitched as the cooler air hit the wounds and there was the slight sting of scabs pulling up with the white gauze.

"Please…." Dean said through pain clenched teeth. "My family…they need me." He felt his hopes dwindling as the man said nothing but poured alcohol across the burns and the stitches that had been put in when he'd been unconscious. Dean knew what the pull of stitches felt like…he'd had them far too often to mistake it for anything else. But the burn of the alcohol made him bite down on the cry of pain that erupted from his chest.

The man stared at the youth fighting for his life…it was one thing to be called up here by the deputy sheriff to save one his flunky's after a drunken brawl…but quite another to be asked to save a kid, knowing he would be killed anyways…? That didn't sit well with the retired doctor.

He'd moved to this small area after losing his medical license due to excessive drinking…he still drank, but these guys didn't care how straight the stitches were. But this kid? He hadn't _agreed to be a part of_ this and he'd seemed brave enough as he'd fought like hell to simply survive those first few days. The doctor had been mortified to see the condition of the youth when he'd arrived, _after being summoned like a dog_. The kid had had the flesh literally filleted from his back with a whip; Fillmore had seen dead men that looked better. There had been clean knife wounds that cut deep into the kid's hip across the bone where it would hurt the most…and his right shoulder was dislocated along with the abrasion wounds on both of his wrists from the cables that had held the kid suspended from the ceiling.

David Fillmore made an instantaneous decision; he leaned down and whispered in the kid's ear.

"Look kid…I can't get you out…but maybe…" He glanced at the door and the approaching voices. "I can get a message to someone?" Dean shifted his head so that his bright green eyes were looking hopefully at the older man leaning over him.

"My dad…John Winchester. Shady Acres Inn...just tell him where I am…that's enough." Dean whispered through the parched throat. His eyes begging that the doctor wasn't lying to him…that he _would_ do this. The old man looked at the door as the voices drifted off to the left and faded into the night.

"I'll contact him. What's your name?"

Dean gulped his hope back along with the pain of the medical care and blinked owlishly at the doctor as he continued to treat Dean's wounds even as he listened. "Dean…Winchester."

Fillmore nodded. "Okay, I'll find him. I need to give you a sedative…if they know you're awake they'll throw you out into the cages with the others…and worse than that…they'll start the game. I can give your dad another twenty four hours…but that's it. After that the sedative will wear off and they'll know you're doing better." His brown eyes were earnest and as much as Dean didn't want to be unconscious, he'd also noticed that they didn't seem to bother him when he was out cold. He inhaled slowly, causing his ribs to protest, and then nodded his agreement to this plan. It didn't look like he had any other choice but to trust this man…and pray to every god that they knew of that he'd find his father.

XXXX

By the third day Sam was an absolute wreck, he hadn't really said much to his father after his confession on the first night. He'd scoured the internet looking for anything and everything that he could find about these disappearances. So far all he knew was that Dean didn't fit the general pattern for the boys that had disappeared over the last fifteen years. He was far older than the other victims, although his training as a hunter and general physical ability did seem to fit the pattern.

His father had called Bobby, who was due in town within the hour and also Pastor Jim, he was coming with Bobby. It had been determined that notifying the police would be the last thing that either of them would do. Mostly because they would look into the Winchesters and John didn't want to deal with the questions.

Sam had argued that _normal_ people called the police when their kids went missing, John had overruled him...and Sam felt his desperation rise the longer they searched with no new leads.

Sam had not taken Dean's sweatshirt off, except to shower, since the first day his brother had gone missing. And every day that there was nothing new about the whereabouts of Dean…he felt his heart breaking a little more. He'd used the most hurtful thing in his arsenal…flung them at his older brother in anger...and then Dean had been taken. The last words he'd heard being…_No, I'm not going to think about that again._ He told himself as he stared at the computer screen, he reached out absently and grabbed the cold cup of coffee that his father had set down…he wasn't exactly sure how long ago. He swigged back the cold bitter brew and made a mental note to tell his dad that he needed cream and sugar in his coffee in the future.

A knock at the door had Sam jumping to his feet and running to the door, a tiny part of him praying that it was his brother, he wrenched the door open and felt his hope deflate a little more when Bobby and Pastor Jim stared at him. "Hey kid…" Bobby said in gruff voice as both of the older hunters stepped into the motel room. "Where's John?" He asked after his keen blue eyes scoured the room and came up with only Sam.

Sam huffed and then closed the door behind the men, wandering back to his post at the computer. "He went to talk to the hospitals and his contact at the sheriff's office."

Pastor Jim stepped forward and threw Bobby a concerned look, his brown eyes then tracking to where Sam was now seated. "He reported Dean missing?" He asked in wonder….because that didn't sound like the John Winchester that he knew. That man would rather deal with something on his own than allow anyone to help him. Why would he start now?

Sam groaned and shook his head, his long brown hair falling into his eyes as he pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. "NO! He didn't report my brother missing. He went to see if anyone had seen a…" He faltered and then steeled his expression before continuing. "…dead body that matched…Dean." Sam's voice cracked before he was able to finish the sentence and Bobby crossed to the kid and placed a comforting arm around the boy's shoulders...boy the kid was getting tall. He felt the shuddering breath ripple through the Sam's body as he manfully swallowed the emotions that had to be running around unchecked inside that oversized brain of his.

Pastor Jim shook his head and inhaled loudly as he set his bag on the end of Sam's bed, pulling out a couple of books and rifling through them until he came across one in particular. It was a newspaper clipping from several years ago judging by the yellowed quality of the paper. "You should read this Sam." He said as he walked over and handed the paper to the teenager.

Sam glanced up at him with questions rolling around in his expressive blue-green eyes as his forehead furrowed. He gently took the fragile looking paper and leaned back in the chair as he perused the contents of the article. By the time he had finished he was sitting straight up and his hands had dropped into his lap as he looked up at the two men. "What's this mean?" He whispered.

Bobby licked his lips and looked over at the Pastor. "Well, we think it means that we got exactly 10 days to find Dean…if he's involved in this." His fingers tapped the paper that Sam had set back on the table, near the computer.

"But, this ring was broken up nearly fifteen years ago…it says it was. The last boy was found alive and he's a cop or something now…" Sam said by way of denial as his gaze flickered between the two men...telling him that his brother had been drawn into some sort of survival game. One that the lunatics involved would then sell tickets to…and bet thousands of dollars on the outcome…like a horse race. And the mere idea that they had somehow gotten their greedy mitts on Dean made Sam see red. It wasn't a supernatural monster that had taken his brother….it was humans. And according to Dean… 'demon's he got…people were just plain crazy'. As Sam looked at the article in his hands, he agreed with his brother on a whole nother level. But this also created a problem…they only had 10 days to track down Dean…before he became a victim of some man's sick game.

Ultimately, Sam wanted to find his brother way sooner than the 10 days, but at least this way they had a direction to move in…and that was more than they'd had. "We don't know who's involved Sam…but we do know that we are going to find your brother…and we are going to bring him home…alive." Bobby said. Jim smiled and nodded his agreement, his brown eyes flying to the door as John pushed it open and then stopped as he stared at the other hunters.

"I'm glad you're here." He said as he laid his jacket on the bed and pulled at the tie he'd worn with the suit. He looked over at Sam, reassuring himself that his youngest son was okay. Sam nodded at him and John nodded back, a silent communication of reassurance.

"Dad, Bobby and Pastor Jim have a lead…on who might have Dean and why?" Sam sputtered the information as he rose quickly to his feet and handed the article to his father. John's blue gaze flitted from his son to his friends and then down to the paper in his hands…a lead…? God knows he could use it.

XXXX  
Sam threw himself onto his bed…exhaustion burning its way through his system as the failure of yet another day sank into his heart. They'd exhausted every avenue they could since learning that Dean might be involved in this type of human trafficking ring. These men didn't sell their product…they put them in a game and then they had to fight until they were able to get to the 'bait' and whoever 'killed' the bait…that boy won the games. He would be the only one to live at the end of the season…the men that supported this type of thing were well protected, by money and power. None of the hunters had been able to find even one man that was involved in this thing. The _cop _that had survived fifteen years ago…he didn't know anything, said he'd never even seen any of the men that had held him. He'd been rescued when the FBI broke up the ring after years of investigation.

His father had gone back to the hospital to check and see if just by chance any one had heard anything about a nineteen year old boy turning up. Bobby and Pastor Jim had 'escorted' Sam back to the motel and then headed to their own rooms after he was settled.

Sam was just pulling his tired body up off the bed when the door to their room burst open and his father rushed through the door. "Sam we gotta go." He didn't offer more explanation, just started throwing weapons and camping gear into two backpacks. Sam stiffened as he saw the types of things his father was collecting…he knew something. This had to be about Dean. That thought had him scrambling to his feet. "Dad…what's going on? Is it Dean?" his voice was quiet but the fear was clearly evident. John stopped long enough to turn and look at his son.

"Yes. Get Bobby and Jim…we don't have much time." John's voice was almost panicked as he threw orders at Sam. He hoped that his son wouldn't fight him at the moment…he wasn't sure if he could deal with that…not after what he'd just learned. His nerves were frayed and he was already scared that they might be too late.

Sam didn't argue he nodded and was sprinting out the door before John had time to say anything else. Thank God for small miracles, was the first thought that sprang to mind as John finished packing the needed gear. This wasn't going to be easy, what he'd learned had given him a clue…these men, the ones that had taken his son. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose to stall the rage that thought brought. They were well armed, trained, and they were extremely isolated. So going in to rescue Dean was going to take some planning, but they needed to do reconnaissance first. He wouldn't be leaving Dean in their clutches any longer than he had to…it had already been far too long.

TBC…  
**Author's Note:** _So I had to get Dean some healing so that he'd make it to the end of the story. He won't be 100%, but he will be able to make it through the game portion of the festivities. That and now there is a pissed off poppa Winchester on the trail…not to mention a raging teenager full of guilt on his heels. Gonna be a action packed next chapter._

**Please Review: They let me know that you guys are still following and like the direction of the story.**


	4. Time is Running Out

**Legalities: **_Supernatural does not belong to me, although I wish it did. I am simply playing in Kripke's sandbox for a bit. All rights and ownership are the property of Kripke and the CW network. I am not making any money from this; it is for my own personal pleasure._

**Synopsis:** _Dean is taken after a fight with a fifteen year old Sam. Clues are scarce and Sam is barely holding it together as he and their father search frantically for the middle Winchester…before the people holding him…torture him to death or force him to participate in a sick little game that they've been engaging in for years with unsuspecting young male tourists._

**Idea:** This little fiction has a storyline, but it is unabashed hurt!Dean with extremely angsty!Sam and worried!John. It will contain graphic depictions of torture as the story unfolds…if you don't like to read this type of thing, or if you are going to flame it…don't read it. _This is purely a selfish little piece_ that I decided to share.

**Please Review: Thank you so much to all of you that reviewed the previous chapter. It was great to hear what you thought. Thank you to all 'Guest' reviewers that I cannot PM. Please continued letting me know what you think. **

**_Also, this is a very dark little piece of fiction, so please read all warnings at the start of the chapters, because there will be depictions of torture, like in this one, so be prepared and don't read it if you're not into this type of thing._**

**Chapter Four**

_Time is Running Out_

John Winchester couldn't believe it when an older man had approached him while he was at the hospital…he'd asked if John had a son named Dean ? Which had immediately gotten both John's attention and gotten the man tossed up against the wall, John's forearm cutting off his air supply, for his trouble. John's angry voice taking on a low menacing growl as he'd asked why the man was asking about his son and who the hell he was? And what he knew about Dean. The guy's eyes had filled with fear at the undisguised rage he saw rolling around in those blue depths as the man waited for his answers…although not patiently.

"My name is David Fillmore…I'm a…was a doctor." The doctor panted as his rising panic coursed through him, his hands shaking slightly and causing him to question whether or not this had been such a good idea…finding that kid's dad. John saw the hesitation and released the man allowing him to take his own weight as he was set back on the floor.

"What do you know? Where's my son?" He said in an icy tone. His face blank of all emotion as he judged whether or not this man could be somewhat trusted. When John saw nothing but the desire to help in the man's demeanor, he stepped back a foot, giving the doctor a bit more room.

The man gulped and then looked in each direction of the long hallway, searching for anyone that might over hear this conversation…because it _would_ get him killed…no questions asked. "I was called to treat a kid up in the camp…said he was in a bad way…" His eyes flickered up and he saw the muscles jumping in the father's cheek as he clenched and unclenched his jaw in barely repressed anger. "Kid would have died without medical care….I patched him up…"

John interrupted the man with a snarl. "What do mean he would have died? How bad is he?"

"Well, they worked him over a fair bit…infection would have been the least of his problems without treatment." The man looked like he was pretty concerned for the welfare of Dean, so John bit back his angry retort, hopeful that the man would continue. "I gave him a sedative to keep him out so they wouldn't try and involve him in the game until I had a chance to try and find you."

John's forehead furrowed as he attempted to figure out just what the hell the 'game' was…and how that would involve his son. "Explain the 'game' to me." John said in a rough voice. His eyes once again searching the doctor's brown gaze for any sign that he might be lying.

"Seven boys are taken throughout the year…they are trained to fight and track…then near the first of October, a 'bait' boy is taken." The doctor swallowed hard, he didn't want to explain just what was in store the kid, if his family wasn't able to rescue him in time. But the hard cold stare from the father made him give up the information. "The 'bait' is sent out exactly six hours ahead of the others….they then track…and kill that kid…along with each other, if needed, as the game progresses. Essentially whoever actually kills the 'bait'...wins the game. It is filmed and then shot out over the internet on a closed channel…people with a lot of money bid on the outcome…and then they can purchase the winning boy for…whatever…" He stuttered to a stop when he saw pain and unmitigated rage flash through the narrowed blue eyes of this boy's father. Something about that look made him think that Silas had definitely bit off more than he could chew here.

This family didn't look like they were going to take this lying down. But what made the doctor gulp was that this guy didn't look like the normal 'dad', he looked like a cold blooded killer…and maybe that wasn't such a bad thing. Because that was what he would be up against…other cold-blooded killers.

"Where are they?" The question wasn't a question at all…it was a demand for the information that the doctor had. And Fillmore had no trouble picturing this man beating the information out of him if he thought that he'd needed to.

XXXX

The first coherent thought that Dean had was that he was cold…his body was shivering slightly and he could feel every single injury as they all jarred painfully as a result. The second was the smell…he knew that smell and it never boded well for the victim or the dead body…which was what he usually associated with it. The rancid air was filtering through his lungs as he struggled to ignore the sweat that was coating his body.

The second thing was that had been given something to cover his lower half…he was no longer lying naked on the board. He shifted and a groan escaped against his will as the burns and the stitches pulled painfully. Dean knew that he needed to open his eyes, but the nausea that was swirling in his gut made him question whether that was a wise decision or not. Voices started to filter through the haze that was surrounding his head… "Either he runs or he dies…"

"But he can't even stay conscious for more than a few minutes yet. The fever is clouding his healing and that would make it literally like sending a 'lamb to the slaughter' if you send the kid out this way." Dean recognized the worried accented voice of the doctor…though the other one he was unable to place. His understanding of the conversation rolled in and out as he tried to remain aware of his surroundings…while ensuring that they didn't realize he was awake.

"Doesn't matter…the bets are already placed and the clients arrive day after tomorrow. So either way he needs to be ready. Do whatever you have to Fillmore." The deep slightly southern accented voice said as it faded…and Dean could only assume that the man had walked away. He heard the frustrated grunt as the doctor blew out a breath of air and then the approaching feet as the boots settled in front of him.

"I know you're awake kid." He said as he placed a gentle hand on Dean's forehead, his fingers almost cold against the hot fevered skin. "I found your dad…he's coming." The doctor whispered into his ear, the warm breath feeling like a cool breeze to the teenager. The medical professional had been laying it on a little thick to Silas, telling him the kid couldn't stay awake and that he couldn't run. Because Fillmore was pretty sure that Dean could run and probably fight…if he had to.

Dean struggled with his leaden eyelids and finally pried them open, the light making him blink several times to try and focus his glassy green gaze. "Dad's coming?" He repeated almost wistfully. The doctor saw something almost relax in the kid as he shifted and then a pained expression crossed his features.

"They want you ready to run in two days…but the burns have developed a slight infection…I've tried, but your fever hasn't broken yet…I'm hoping that he makes it here before they come for you. I am going to give you something that may help reduce the fever…but you need a real hospital Dean." It was the first time that the man had used his name and Dean found that it made him feel like less of a prisoner. He wasn't sure that he trusted this man…but right now…the doctor was his best shot of getting out of here…_alive._

Dean focused of wrapping his wandering mind around nothing beyond the fact that his dad _was_ coming. He had known that his father wouldn't abandon him to this fate.

Not even taken out by something supernatural, but humans…monsters to be sure…but still just humans. But then the thought that his father might bring Sam too...had Dean pushing his battered body to sit up and look at the doctor. The restraints having been removed at the request of the doctor. He'd assured Silas that the kid was too 'out of it' to do any escaping and trying to heal him like that wasn't working. Dean wrapped a hand around his ribs as they protested his movements and his head swam causing his stomach to rebel as he retched onto the dirt floor of the room. The doctor stepped up next to him, his hand resting quietly on the kids back as he waited for the episode to pass.

"I can give you something for that too." He said as he inserted a needle into the IV in Dean's hand, depressing the medication directly into the vein. Dean's gaze moved up to his face…slowly as he processed the help that he was receiving.

"Thank you…for helping me." Dean managed, his voice slightly stronger and carefully laid back down against the hard surface. He watched as the doctor scrubbed his hand through his thinning hair and furrowed his eyebrows and nodded slightly.

"I was sick of being their lap dog anyways…time for this deranged game to come to an end. And if your dad can help make that happen? Then I consider myself more than repaid kid." He finished as he stepped over and grabbed a cool wet cloth and gently placed it over the red hot skin of Dean's forehead. "I just hope it works." He continued as the young man fell back into a medicated sleep. "Your dad should be here soon."

XXXX

Sam pulled his backpack further up his back as he trugged along silently behind his father. Bobby and Pastor Jim had come up a trail on the other side of the ravine…hoping that maybe one of the two would get a group to Dean quicker. The trail dipped and Sam found he had to pull his thoughts back and concentrate on the shale they were currently moving across. He was finding that difficult, because with the extremely limited information that his father had given him, his over active imagination kept coming up with some really horrific scenarios. Almost all of which had him arriving too late to save his brother…or to apologize for his outburst more than a week ago.

He felt the tightness start in his chest again as he remembered how easily he had torn into his brother…and it made him feel both guilty and ashamed of the action. A low hanging branch had Sam ducking to keep from hitting his head, his shot gun held firmly in his hands, while he could feel the warm metal of his Taurus riding in the waistband of his jeans. It was comforting to feel the weapons and it suddenly occurred to him that that wasn't a _normal_ reaction to firearms. He sighed and then bent lower to avoid another branch, his eyes washing over the ground searching for things that could impede his progression.

The sudden lack of sound had him glancing up as he realized that his father had stopped moving and was signaling for him to do the same. Sam sank to his knees and took up a defensive position, watching their flank while his father pulled the binoculars out of his pack. Sam's eyebrows furrowed as he listened for the whistle that indicated that they could move forward again. He was not prepared when his father made his way back to where he was currently on sentry duty.

"I think we found the camp." He whispered. Sam's head swiveled in the direction they'd been heading and he took the binoculars and searched for any sign of his brother. Although he was sure that if his father had seen Dean…he would have mentioned that straight off. They didn't know what they could be coming up against…only that the man at the hospital had said that the men holding Dean were well armed and trained. So they needed intel…before they could even think about coming up with a rescue plan.

That had been the worst part for Sam…the knowledge that when they did find where his brother was being held…they couldn't simply rush in there and take Dean back. They had to plan and coordinate, ensuring that they were able to extract Dean safely. This was particularly important, because they already knew Dean was injured…he wouldn't be able to keep up with them if they tried to flee the area. Although, as Sam looked at the angry determined face of his father…he didn't think that any of these men were getting out unscathed. They'd taken a Winchester…and with that would come retribution.

"Stay here Sam…I'm going to move closer and see if I can see where they are holding Dean." John said. It was an order and Sam ground his teeth in irritation that he was once again being left behind.

"I can help dad." Sam said through clenched teeth, his voice a harsh whisper. His father glared at him in a silent command to follow his orders here. Sam clamped his mouth shut, but it wasn't the look on his father's face that had him being quiet. It was the thought that this was how the whole argument with Dean had started…and look how that had turned out. So he simply nodded and sank onto his haunches as his father moved silently into the dark foliage of the forest.

Sam tried to keep his mind on what he was doing, but he found that it kept wandering in favor of thoughts of his brother. Sam remembered the first day of high school…he'd started this year…Dean had taken him to the mall and let him pick out whatever types of clothing he wanted. They'd gone to several stores that their father never allowed them into…mainly because the clothes cost too much. The memory of his brother's smile as Sam had carefully picked out what he wanted along with a new pair of boots made the teenager's chest ache. The only thing his brother was guilty of was trying to keep Sam happy and safe…that was it.

Nothing Dean ever did…or had ever done for that matter…had been about him. He was always giving up parts of himself to ensure that Sam was safe and relatively happy. Just like he'd done when they'd argued; rather than yell and scream at Sam to _grow up_, like he should have, Dean had simply taken the verbal abuse and walked away.

Sam felt his eyes burn, he set his gun on his knees and reached up to scrub at the tears forming there. He wasn't going to cry…he'd done this…he'd already pushed his brother past where Dean _should _forgive him. And yet he knew that his older brother _would _ forgive him anything…as long as they got to him before these sadistic bastards killed him.

Sam didn't know how long he sat there in the silence of the forest, his gun resting lightly on his lap and his ears straining for his father's return. The light was starting to fade and Sam was getting nervous that something had happened. John Winchester was a master at evasion and intelligence gathering…but he'd been gone for, Sam glanced at his watch, Geez…two and half hours. Bobby and Pastor Jim were going to be expecting them at the rendezvous point by sunset. The sound of crunching branches and loud voices caught Sam's attention and had him scrambling to his feet and darting away from the trail. He was careful to avoid breaking branches as he moved into the low light of the low hanging branches.

"Yeah…that damn kid is a mess. Silas thinks this will be the shortest hunt they've ever had…thinks Jack will kill him before the days out." The man chuckled as Sam heard the distinct sound of a zipper dropping and then he rolled his eyes as he heard the man relieve himself not twenty feet from where Sam was hiding.

"Then they gotta figure out what to do with the other contestants…just let Jack kill them too? Or will those boys get turned over to us? Because that could be fun." The second voice had an undertone to it that left nothing to the imagination. Sam knew exactly what that sick bastard wanted those other boys for. He cringed at the thought that these sick sons a-bitches had Dean…his knuckles going white as he gripped his shot gun more tightly. The sound of the men moving away had Sam breathing a little easier…but the sudden feeling of a hand grasping his shoulder had him swinging around with the butt of the rifle, intent on knocking out his assailant.

"Sam." John said as he easily blocked the shot. His hands coming up to disarm his son before he managed to give away their position. John looked worried, his eyes were hooded and wary as he looked into the frantic gaze of his youngest son. "We need help." He said as he started to moving up the ridge…Sam knew from way too many training sessions…his father was looking for signal. He was going to call Bobby and Pastor Jim to their position.

Once they'd crested the ridge John was texting the other men…they responded saying that they needed about an hour to get where Sam and John were. Sam looked at the small slice of moon that was peeking out from between the clouds as night rolled in. "Dad…did you see Dean?" Sam couldn't hold the question in any longer. He needed to know.

John scrubbed a hand over the day old stubble on his face and inhaled deeply before he answered that. He had seen where they were keeping Dean…and he'd managed to sneak close enough to know that they _needed _to get his son out of there. Dean's face was flushed with fever, but that wasn't what had John calling on every level of training he had…it was the damage to his eldest sons body.

Dean was covered in wounds and the ranged from mild to severe, he was mostly unconscious when John had managed to check on him…but he was mumbling something about forgiving Sam…tears pushed at his eyes and he thought of how much pressure he put on the kid. He was always telling Dean that it was his responsibility to protect his little brother…and he had. Dean had always put his little brother's needs in front of his own…and now when he had been tortured, the only thought that he had was for Sam.

"I saw him Sam." John managed. Sam stepped up and placed a gentle hand on his father's shoulder and looked him dead in the eye.

"Is he gonna make it?" It pained Sam to ask, but he had to know if they could afford to wait for the other two hunters. "If we wait…is he going to make it?" He repeated.

John turned and looked into the determined face of his little boy. But what he saw there wasn't a child looking to his father for approval…he saw the face of hunter, a brother, and a trained killer, _if necessary,_ and suddenly John wondered if he'd done either of his boys a favor by raising them as he had. But as he stared into the stony blue-green eyes of Sam…he knew that they couldn't wait. Dean might not make it much longer.

"I don't think so son." John answered honestly.

"Then we go now." Sam said in steely voice. He stood up and put his hand out to help haul his father to his feet. "They can join us when they get here."

John nodded and inhaled as he felt pride flood his system. His sons would do anything for each other…and maybe that wasn't such a bad thing after all.

TBC…

**Author's Note:** _Next chapter is the actual raid on the camp and the craziness that ensues as the small team tries to rescue Dean. Action galore in that one. Keep reading and reviewing._

**Please Review: Your reviews have motivated me to post a chapter daily, which is unusual. Thanks for all the amazing feedback. Please keep it coming. You guys are great.**


	5. Finding Dean

**Legalities: **_Supernatural does not belong to me, although I wish it did. I am simply playing in Kripke's sandbox for a bit. All rights and ownership are the property of Kripke and the CW network. I am not making any money from this; it is for my own personal pleasure._

**Synopsis:** _Dean is taken after a fight with a fifteen year old Sam. Clues are scarce and Sam is barely holding it together as he and their father search frantically for the middle Winchester…before the people holding him…torture him to death or force him to participate in a sick little game that they've been engaging in for years with unsuspecting young male tourists._

**Idea:** This little fiction has a storyline, but it is unabashed hurt!Dean with extremely angsty!Sam and worried!John. It will contain graphic depictions of torture as the story unfolds…if you don't like to read this type of thing, or if you are going to flame it…don't read it. _This is purely a selfish little piece_ that I decided to share.

**Please Review: Thank you so much to all of you that reviewed the previous chapter. It was great to hear what you thought. Thank you to all 'Guest' reviewers that I cannot PM. Please continued letting me know what you think. **

**_Also, this is a very dark little piece of fiction, so please read all warnings at the start of the chapters, because there will be depictions of torture, like in this one, so be prepared and don't read it if you're not into this type of thing._**

**Chapter Five**

_Finding Dean_

"Time to go kid." A voice growled as fingers closed painfully around Dean's upper arm and dragged him to his feet. The movements were rough and jerky and caused pain to shoot through a body already on the brink of collapse.

Dean stumbled slightly as his brain tried desperately to understand why it had gone from horizontal to vertical so quickly. His knees finally locking into place as he forced his eyes open and swallowed against the nausea that threatened to expel small amount of water he'd managed to drink earlier.

The man's hands were huge; they encircled his entire bicep and were biting painfully into the already sore muscles, his shoulder complaining at the forced angle. He was jerked from the room where he'd been kept for the entire length of his stay in this crappy little camp. Dean's eyes were already adjusted to the darkness, so there was no period of blindness as he was forced out into the dark night. The air was slightly cooler than it had been, he cast his gaze around the area as he was pushed in a specific direction, getting his first real look at the encampment…and he felt panic rise as he noticed all the armed men and even the dogs that were watching him.

His back was pure agony as he was twisted this way and that as he was maneuvered through the throngs of the leering crowd. Words tossed out easily as he was paraded by them…his own shame ramping up as he realized that they were taunting him. Anger was just beneath the surface of the shame that reddened his face when a man stepped forward and grabbed at his body, fingers reaching for his one piece of clothing. A wicked grin on his face when Dean was twisted out his reach, causing the youth to be unable to hold back the cry of pain as one of the lines of stitches in his back tore open and he felt the sticky warmth of his own blood drip down, soaking into his pants.

"Let's go kid." The man hauling him said as he held back a chuckle at the obvious boy's pain_. These guys really are sadistic_…Dean thought as he swung his eyes in other directions hoping to catch a glance of someone he knew. His father or another hunter that was here to try and save him…but his green eyes landed on nothing familiar and he felt his hope slowly dwindling as he was force marched to a large circle. His usually sarcastic remarks frozen in his throat as he took in the sight of seven other boys staring hungrily at him inside that circle. Each of them was wearing some sort of armor in addition to carrying a wicked looking weapon. Some of them carrying maces or battle axes…while others carried long machete blades. But it was their eyes that really set Dean back on his heels…they weren't sane. Each pair of eyes that he looked at was whirling almost violently; one in particular had him concerned. A larger kid, he was standing at the center of the others…and he was carry a bow and quiver of arrows in addition to a nasty looking blade hanging from his belt.

Whatever these sick bastards had done to these boys…they each had a wild almost frantic look in their eyes and they were all staring at…Dean. He gulped and then steeled his nerves as he forced his rising pain down and threw up his walls of indifference as he was brought to a halt in the center of the gathered crowd. His arms were attached to a post as the man secured manacles around his wrists again and Dean bit back a gasp as the metal rubbed painfully against his already abraded skin. He was hauled up as his arms were raised above his head and then he was lifted nearly off the ground…his shoulder popping out of socket once again. Pain coursed through him and he bit the inside of his cheek to keep from voicing the pain.

"Finally we are ready to start the game!" The man yelled into the crowd, who responded with enthusiastic cries and raised fists. He gestured to Dean, who was biting his lip against the pain rolling through his body at the forced positioning. "The bait will be released in exactly one hour…and then…" He swept his arm in front of the other boys, his voice taking on a menacing growl. "…these seven boys will hunt and kill for the privilege of life…and of course money." Each of the boys looked at one another, their faces reflecting everything from fear to excitement. The man stepped back and fisted his fingers into Dean's short hair pulling his head back up. He glared into the green depths and furrowed his eyebrows at what he saw there…not fear…but rage.

"You better just kill me…" Dean whispered his voice dropping to a low razor sharp rasp. "Or I'm gonna kill every one of you…and them." He narrowed his eyes and then pulled what little moisture there was in his body as he spit directly into the man's face. Watching with satisfaction as the spittle ran down the man's nose and cheek.

"You son of a bitch!" The guy cried and hauled his meaty fist back; slamming it forward into Dean's unprotected face. He felt his head snap painfully to the side and the explosion of white stars that followed warning him that this man had hit him damn hard. The metallic taste of metal immediately telling him that his lips had probably been split along with the blood that poured out his nose and over his chin, only to drip onto his bare chest. Another blow sent his head lurching in the other direction and Dean groaned as pain pulsed through his head and cheek…just as the man was hauling back to send another blow into the insolent teens face, his arm was grabbed and he was spun around coming face to face with Silas. The anger and warning that was evident in the law man's face had Kale rethinking his decision to hit the kid in the circle, just before the game began.

"That's enough Kale. You've done enough damage to the 'game' for this year." Silas was huge, he had to be at least 6'4 and 240 lbs and he didn't look as though he did anything but workout. He had dark brown hair that covered muddy colored eyes and a face that had a large scar running down the left side of his entire face. It started near his hairline and then dropped, just missing his eye, all the way to his jaw. The powerful cords on his neck were standing out as he warned the other man…not to challenge him on this.

Kale glared at him but said nothing further as he dropped his fist and stepped away from the boy. Silas turned to look Dean in the eyes. "That wasn't smart kid." He said through clenched teeth as he looked at the boy with renewed interest. Maybe the game _would_ have some excitement this year…he hoped so…the investors were expecting action…not a slaughter.

Dean managed to spit the remaining blood in his mouth onto the ground in front of Silas, and the pulled his icy gaze up to meet the man's interested features. "Like I care. You're gonna kill me anyways, right?" Dean said in a low whisper as the crowd started to mill around, grabbing beers and talking loudly as they anticipated the start of the game.

Silas simply raised an eyebrow and smiled. The scar on his face belying the friendly look he currently wore as he stared down at Dean. "It's all part of the game…you just drew the short straw. Too bad really…because I think you would have made a better hunter than bait."

Dean cringed as the man used the word 'hunter'…it was simple irony that he was going to be taken out by human hunters…he'd always assumed that he would go out at the hands…_or claws_…of the supernatural. "Nothing personal kid…it's just business." Dean gaped at Silas as he nearly laughed in the man's face.

"Nothing personal? Are you fucking kidding me? You're about to set a pack of kids that look like they've seen 'Lord of the Fly's' once too often after me." Dean growled through clenched teeth. "It's pretty fucking personal to me." He finished as he glared at the man looking down at him with a blank face. Silas didn't answer he simply grabbed something from his pocket and then roughly gagged Dean, tying the knot tightly behind the kid's head. He pulled tight enough that Dean groaned as pain shot through his split lips as his green eye continued to glare angrily as the man stepped away.

"No more talk. You should be thinking strategy…because I'm changing the rules this year…you see usually you would get a 6 hour head start…but because there have been so many screw up's this year. I'm gonna give you exactly twenty minutes before I set those 'Lord of the Fly's' boys after you. So I'd start using my time more wisely if I were you. Plan…Dean Winchester…come up with a plan." Silas patted Dean on the face, causing the middle Winchester to grunt his response as he pulled his face away from the unwanted contact. Silas simply laughed and turned to walk away.

"Make sure no one touches him until the game starts." He said as he passed one of the guys with an evil looing dog. Dean was pretty sure that dog couldn't wait for a reason to rip out his throat…or claw his chest open.

Dean allowed his head to fall back against the pole, his arms aching and his shoulder pulsing with pain from the forced position. He tried to think of a way out of this mess…he knew his father _was_ coming…but the question was…could he hang on until he did? The desperate nature of his situation was not lost on him as he lifted his head and looked down only to realize that he only had on a pair of cut off sweatpants and nothing else. He didn't have shoes…he had no weapons…he was already seriously injured before this whole shitty thing started. So realistically…what were his chances? He didn't know…but the thought of Sammy having help burn and bury his battered body had Dean pulling determination from depths he didn't know he possessed. He would survive until they came for him…what the cost.

XXXX

Sam nodded to his father as John indicated that he should circle the encampment and come at it from the other side. That way they weren't together if something went wrong. He knew that it had to be literally killing his father that he had to use Sam in this rescue attempt. But Sam couldn't help the rush of adrenaline at finally being allowed to prove his own worth and skills to his father. Not to mention the fact that his dad would have had to knock him out to keep him from coming to help rescue Dean. _That whole protect your brother? Yeah, that cut both ways._ Sam knew that his older brother wouldn't see it that way…but that was how it was.

He crouched and moved silently among the wall tents, careful to avoid the men milling about. His eyes were sharp and wary as he passed one man sitting on a log smoking a cigarette…a large dog seated at his feet. The dog glanced in his direction and tilted its head…but remained silent as Sam continued to move past it and the oblivious owner. A long sigh of relief escaped Sam's lips as he rounded a corner and found himself in front of the building that his father had described…the one that he knew held Dean.

Sam looked in each direction and carefully positioned his shotgun on his back, pulling out his knife for a more silent attack. He crept through the small door, sliding along the wall and staying out of the limited light inside the room. There was only one man inside and he was seated on what looked like a surgical table. His head had fallen forward into his hands and he was shaking it from side to side as Sam closed the distance and quietly slid his arm around the man, hauling him to his feet and allowing the blade to rest against the vulnerable flesh of the man's unprotected neck.

"Where's my brother." Sam growled in a low voice. Careful to keep only enough pressure on the blade to remind the man that it was there and not slice him open. He felt the guy stiffen in surprise and then relax suddenly as he lifted his head.

"You must be Sam." He said quietly. His voice held a hint of a southern accent, but to Sam's surprise, no malice.

Sam's eyebrows furrowed in surprise. "Where's my brother?" He said again as he swallowed his concern that this man knew who he was…and the only way he would know that was if he'd talked with Dean.

The man sighed. "I'm Dr. Fillmore…I had hoped your father would have gotten here before now."

Sam's internal alarms went crazy at that sentence. "Why? Where have they taken Dean?" He knew that this was the building where Dean had been held…which meant that they'd moved him…recently and that couldn't be a good sign.

"They started the game…they took Dean to the circle…" Sam was already moving away when the man continued and stopped him dead in his tracks.

"You can't get to him there…you have to wait until they release him and the others into the hunt."

"What the hell does that mean?" Sam said angrily, finally turning and getting a look at the elderly doctor. He looked resigned and scared as he took in the rage battling with sensibility on Sam's young face.

"It means he's too well guarded where he is…you have to wait until they officially start the game and release him. Then you will have twenty minutes to find him and try to get the hell out of this area, before those boys find you…or him." The doctor looked earnest as he explained what was to come and Sam could feel the color literally draining from his face as he got the full story. His father had kept some pretty important details from him…like exactly how badly his brother had already been hurt. And what the outcome of this game really was. _Survival and death._ That was it…that was what this whole bullshit game boiled down to. If those bastards hadn't beaten the hell out of Dean at the beginning, he probably could have fought his way out once they let him go…but not with the level of injuries he'd already sustained.

"How do I get to this 'circle'?" Sam asked as he continued to glare at the doctor. While a part of him was grateful that the man had helped his brother…another part of him wondered just how many other _Deans_ had been left to die as a result of this man's cowardice up to this point.

"Follow the line of trees and look for the bon fire…that's where you'll find your brother." He said slowly and then dropped his head back into his hands as Sam slipped from the room.

Sam almost dove back into the cover of the trees, seeking the safety of the darkness as he moved stealthily along its edge looking for the light that would indicate he had found the center of the camp. He stopped as he heard something moving up ahead of him…he drifted further into the forest and crouched down as a he saw a man step up in front of him and reached down, pulling his zipper down.

_What is it with men wanting to pee right in front of me?_ Sam thought in disgust right before he sprang forward and wrapped the man in a rear naked choke and listened as the guy's air supply ran out and he quickly collapsed. Sam pulled him into the woods and grabbed the rope from his back pack…once he was sure that the man had no weapons and was secured…he moved on searching for the light.

When he rounded what both looked _and smelled_ like the latrines…he saw it. The soft yellow glow of a large fire and there in the center, near the fire was Dean. Sam winced inwardly and felt his anger flare to new heights as he took in his brother's condition. Dean was hanging from the pole, his knees having buckled slightly…probably from exhaustion…Sam thought as he took in the bags under his brother's eyes. His chest was riddled with cuts and abrasions…the white of a bandage sticking up just above the waistband of the black sweatpants he was wearing. There was blood dried on his face, beneath a gag and the beginnings of a seriously painful looking bruise forming on the side of his face. All in all…Dean looked like shit. But he was alive and that was going to have to be enough for Sam for the moment. Because the doctor hadn't lied…there were too many men in that area for Sam to storm in and take his brother back. Or even to try and sneak in carefully and steal him away.

Frustration flared inside of Sam at the situation. He glanced up when he saw movement off to his left and his body went rigid as he waited for the figure to come into focus. His father's form moved quietly among the trees and he finally made it up to where Sam was hiding…watching as his son released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

Sam pointed to where Dean was being held… he hoped that his father had some plan here. But he was disappointed when his father simply nodded indicating that he was aware of where his eldest son was being held. But of all the things John Winchester was…stupid and reckless weren't among them. He knew that they couldn't get to Dean where he was…they needed help and they would have to wait until the men released his son into the forest…_as bait for a rich man's hunt._ He thought angrily.

XXXX

Dean allowed his head to fall forward as exhaustion sapped what little energy he had had while talking to Silas. His body was shaking slightly from the fever and he could feel the constant shift in his temperature as he went from cold to hot intermittently. He listened to the men around him with a sinking feeling….they were ready to bet on his death. These men…if that's what they could be called…were here specifically to see how quickly he would die once they released him from this post. Dean found that he'd never felt more violated as they came over occasionally and leered at his half naked form. The words that they threw at him had him digging his chin into his chest to avoid looking any of them in the eyes. It was like being hung out as a piece of meat for people to poke at and insult.

"Too bad you're gonna die kid…because I can think of such dirty things to do with that mouth…" One man had said as he reached out ran his hands along Dean's chest. He dropped his fingers until they rested on the elastic of the sweats and then he pushed his palm against Dean's crotch. Rubbing none too gently when all he got in response was, for Dean to inhale sharply and try to pull his hips away from the guy. His glassy green eyes finally shooting up and sending an icy glare at the man as he laughed and stepped away, when he finally saw the man with the dog approaching him. But Dean could still feel the man touching him and it made him sick to his stomach…if he hadn't been gagged he probably would have puked. His stomach was doing flip flops as he again allowed his head to come to rest on his chest.

_Hurry up dad…_ He thought. Dean's will to fight was slowly losing out to his bodies injuries and the indignities that being held in this circle were causing him. He heard the crunch of gravel as once again someone approached him and he slowly brought his eyes up and they immediately connected with the muddy brown of the cop again. He looked over Dean's mildly interested eyes and his pliant body position and smiled to himself. He saw what the kid was hiding underneath…an iron will to survive. No…this kid would fight and he would fight hard to survive. Once again Silas regretted that he was bait…but that was how the chips had fallen.

"Time to run." He said as he reached up and unlatched Dean's arms and they fell uselessly to his front. The immediate pain as blood rushed back into the extremities and the dislocated shoulder that screamed its displeasure at the hasty act…had Dean groaning deep in his chest. "You have twenty minutes kid…run."

TBC…

**Author's Note:** _So slight change of plans…Dean has to get out of the camp before they can try and save him. Too many of them and not enough of the rescue party…but don't worry, the men involved __will __be getting what they deserve. But more of a gorilla style than full frontal assault. I split this chapter… it was getting too long. Second half will be up tomorrow, it's already written. Please keep reviewing, it is motivating me greatly. Thank you to all reviewers and guest reviewers I'm so glad you are enjoying this little fiction._

**Please Review: You have no idea how much that pushes me to finish this story quicker.**


	6. RetributionPart One

**Legalities: **_Supernatural does not belong to me, although I wish it did. I am simply playing in Kripke's sandbox for a bit. All rights and ownership are the property of Kripke and the CW network. I am not making any money from this; it is for my own personal pleasure._

**Synopsis:** _Dean is taken after a fight with a fifteen year old Sam. Clues are scarce and Sam is barely holding it together as he and their father search frantically for the middle Winchester…before the people holding him…torture him to death or force him to participate in a sick little game that they've been engaging in for years with unsuspecting young male tourists._

**Idea:** This little fiction has a storyline, but it is unabashed hurt!Dean with extremely angsty!Sam and worried!John. It will contain graphic depictions of torture as the story unfolds…if you don't like to read this type of thing, or if you are going to flame it…don't read it. _This is purely a selfish little piece_ that I decided to share.

**Please Review: Thank you so much to all of you that reviewed the previous chapter. It was great to hear what you thought. Thank you to all 'Guest' reviewers that I cannot PM. Please continued letting me know what you think. **

**_Also, this is a very dark little piece of fiction, so please read all warnings at the start of the chapters, because there will be depictions of torture, like in this one, so be prepared and don't read it if you're not into this type of thing._**

**Chapter Six**

_Retribution…Part One_

Dean took about two seconds to allow the information to seep into his brain before his bare feet were scrambling forward as fast as his injured body would move. He could hear the jeering calls of the crowd and he neared the edge of the black forest. He tried to ignore the shouts for blood as he passed the rows of men and the barking dogs that had him putting on a burst of speed that he didn't even think he'd be capable of in his current condition. But the idea of being ripped to pieces or killed by one of the boys that had been watching him, gave him strength and allowed Dean to push his pain down.

The soles of his feet were sending tendrils of pain shooting through his legs as he finally cleared the edge of the dark foliage. His breath was coming in ragged pants as the broken ribs flared and an anguished cry rushed to his lips and he found that he had to stop. Dean tried to keep walking as he waited for the pain to reduce to a level where he could manage it. Stoping wasn't a good idea...and he knew that.

He needed to find a place to hide…one where he could either defend it…or that they would have a difficult time finding him in the first place. He looked around and found a long thick stick, he put his weight on it and nodded when he found it would hold him. Plus it could double as a weapon.

Dean knew that he was in trouble when the slick feeling on his back let him know that he'd probably pulled more stitches and the stinging in his feet told him he'd managed to slice them open in his flight from the camp. He could hear the dogs baying as he looked up at a cliff edge that looked like there might be a cave inside of it. The only problem was the river that was between him and the solace of the cave. Dean took a breath and closed his eyes as he decided that he was willing to do anything to get back to Sam…he plunged quickly into the churning water, a gasp escaping as the water stung painfully..

The river was not as deep as he'd originally thought; it only came up to his waist instead of closing over his head. Dean waded forward, the water biting at him as it hit his feet and the rocks rolling beneath the surface as he struggled to remain upright. The water continued to push at his already exhausted body. Dean was roughly half way across when he heard it…his brother's voice calling his name frantically. He twisted back toward the shore he'd just left…there on the opposite side was his brother and his father. Sam was waving his hands frantically…and Dean felt his heart pulse as he blinked slowly and then a small smile started to form on his lips.

"Dean!" Sam called again, trying to ensure that Dean could hear him over the rushing water. He really couldn't...the booming sounds of the river drowning out most what Sam was yelling.

Dean finally waved his good arm at his brother and just as he was twisting to head back to his family, he felt a sharp rock slice into his leg as the bottom of the river fell out from beneath him and the cold water swirled over his head. The current was stronger on this side of the river than Dean had anticipated, he felt his body being pull downstream as he struggled to haul air into his lungs before the murky water closed over his head.

Sam watched in horror as Dean disappeared beneath the water…the last thing Sam had seen of his brother was his smile at the appearance of his family…before the water washed him away. Sam screamed a denial and was in the water before his father could catch ahold of his shirt. Sam waded out until the river got too deep and the ground dropped out from beneath him and then he was swimming downstream, following the occasional sight of his brother's blonde hair. Dean was still struggling to remain above the surface as he was tossed from current to current, his head catching on a branch that was extended out into the river as he got too close to the bank.

John watched in horror as his youngest son plunged into the water after the rapidly disappearing form of his eldest. He swore as he took off running along the opposite bank, looking frantically for anything that could be used to fish his sons out of the river.

Sam swam faster when he saw Dean hit the branch and the sudden lull in his brothers struggling motions as he went limp. Dean's body was just dipping below the surface of the rapidly rushing water when Sam's arms closed around his chest. He pulled with all his strength and managed to keep his brother's head above the water. He cast his eyes at the shore, looking for something to pull them out with…he saw a large bush stretching out over the water and took a chance. He reached out the hand that wasn't holding Dean and twisted his fingers into the edges of the branch. The water immediately started pulling strongly at his body…Sam could feel Dean starting to slip from his grasp…tears stinging his eyes as he pulled with everything he had…trying desperately to hang on to his big brother...suddenly Sam felt a hand grab at his back…and he was being hauled up onto the shore. His lungs sputtering water as he tried to focus his eyes on who his rescuer was, his arms clutching at Deans silent body.

"Damn boy…couldn't you have waited for us?" Bobby's gruff voice made Sam roll toward him and sputter as he pulled his tired body up and crawled toward where Pastor Jim was now leaning over his brother.

"Dean…" He said quietly as he got a good look at the battered body of his older brother. Dean didn't even groan as they rolled him onto his back, where Sam knew he had severely injured skin. He leaned down and placed his ear over his brother's heart, listening for the tell tale heart beat that should be there…nothing.

"Oh hell No Dean…you are not leaving me now." Sam cried as he started chest compressions and pushing oxygen into his brother's starved lungs. "Come on Dean…" Sam almost sobbed as his emotions surfaced and he continued the frantic pace…finally, after what felt like forever, he felt Dean's chest begin to rise on its own…as a hesitant shuttering breath was pulled in. "Dean…" Sam said as he sat back and looked up at the two men. Bobby leaned down and helped pull Sam to his feet.

His brother didn't open his eyes, but he was alive and that was all that Sam could ask for at the moment. "Those guys aren't far behind us…that bastard only gave Dean a twenty minute head start before they were coming after him." Sam glanced down at his prone brother. "I'm guessing they've already left the camp."

Bobby nodded. "Where's your dad?"

Sam shook his head… "I'm not sure…I just went in after Dean…I didn't even look to see where dad went." Now that he was thinking about it he thought he remembered seeing his father running along the shore. "I think he was trying to get ahead of us…maybe try and get me something to grab onto?" Sam finished As he ran his fingers through his wet hair and pushed it out of his eyes.

A groan from Dean had Sam on his knees, his hands gently moving his brother's battered face, the branch had split open a gash on his forehead…that without the water to wash it away, was starting to bleed heavily. "Dean?" Sam asked.

He watched as his brother's eyelids fluttered and he finally saw the vivid green of his brother's eyes as they rolled until they focused on Sam's face. "S'mmy?" Dean asked in a hoarse voice, his eyes closing slowly and then opening slightly as he simply smiled up his little brother. "You…c'me…" Dean said quietly.

Sam was trying to answer when the sudden pounding of feet running toward their small group had him glancing up quickly. His father pounded into the area and pulled Sam up into his arms, hugging his youngest son while he tried to calm his pounding heart. He wanted to yell and scream at his son for putting himself in danger…but the other part of him couldn't be prouder of his son for risking his life to save his brother's. John released Sam and sank down next to Dean…his fingers shaking slightly as he reached up and gently ran his hand over the bruising on his boys face. Rage and a feeling that he hadn't felt since Mary had died coursed through him, when Dean turned his head slightly into the warmth.

John wanted to kill something…he didn't care if it was human or not…he wanted to maim and destroy and pay back the bastards that had done this to his son. And as he raised his icy blue eyes he saw the same look in his youngest sons blue-green gaze. "I know how you feel Sam." He said quietly. Bobby leaned down and pulled John back to his feet.

"When you called me…I called in a favor…A friend that works for the FBI Agent Adams. They've been looking into these disappearances since they started back up several years ago…they should be here within an hour. Full assault on the camp…" Bobby had started talking quietly as he filled John in on a decision he and the Pastor had made without talking to the oldest Winchester. John stared at the older hunter…confusion racking his brain as he put together the pieces.

"You didn't mention Dean's involvement?" He asked roughly.

Bobby shook his head. "Course not."

John inhaled and then nodded. "Bobby…" he said breathily. His eyes dropping to his son again and then flickering over to Sam's gaze, he was sitting with his hands resting lightly on Dean's chest.

Bobby knew what the man was asking…he wanted to go after the bastards that had taken and tortured his son…and truthfully…so did Bobby. He'd known these boys since they were…well since Dean was about seven and John had tracked him down asking questions about demons and other supernatural monsters. He loved them like his own and as he looked down at the nearly broken boys sitting at their feet he nodded at John.

"Okay…but we gotta get these boys to safety."

"Agreed." John looked up at the area where they'd stopped. His eyes falling on a dark area above Bobby's shoulder. "Think we can get him on that out cropping?"

Bobby's eyes lifted and he whistled low in his throat. "Yeah…but it's probably going to hurt like hell for Dean." He said as Sam quickly looked at them, shaking his head as the simple thought of causing his brother more pain made him want to puke.

"Okay…move over son." John said as he gently reached under Dean's prone form and lifted him. The cry of pain as his arms made contact with the wounds on his son's back…made John swear that the man that had done this would die…tonight.

Sam's face scrunched in pain and he tried to ignore Dean's moans as their father carried him up the small trail and watched as Sam scrambled ahead of him reaching down to help get Dean over the lip of the rock shelf.

"H'rts….S'mmy…" Dean said as he curled up against his brother's warm body. Sam knew that normally his brother would rather be burned alive than allow Sam to witness this vulnerable side...And it made Sam's heart clench at the injured quality to Dean's voice as he waited for instructions from his father.

"Sam…keep him safe. Pastor Jim will keep watch down below…but you gotta protect Dean up here." John said as he looked from his youngest to his oldest sons…

"I will dad." Sam said.

XXXX

Sam had been trying to keep Dean warm since his father had taken off more than twenty minutes ago…he ran his fingers through Dean's wet hair and pulled his father's jacket further up over Dean's chest. He listened to the swirl of the water below them and found that his eyes were getting heavy as his body tried to relax for the first time since his brother had gone missing. He still hadn't had a chance to apologize to Dean for what he had said…but he would. He wanted to make sure that Dean would remember it when he did...and his brother probably barely knew his own name right now...so he would wait.

Sudden movement below their hiding spot had Sam slipping out from beneath his brother and inching forward to peer over the lip…he watched in silent horror as a man snuck up behind Pastor Jim and smashed him in the head with the butt of his rifle. His eyes immediately flickering up to the place where the boys were hidden.

"I know you're up there kid…" He said in a thick southern accent. "Come on down and make this easier…"

Sam pulled back and looked at the barely conscious form of his big brother and then grabbed one of his knives and left it within easy reach of Dean's hands. Then he was pulling his body over the edge and slipping quietly down the rock face, his hands gripping tightly on the rock until he could drop to his feet and turn to face the man that was a threat to his family.

"What the hell do you want?" Sam growled as he glared angrily at the man.

A disturbing smile worked its way onto the man's face as he took in the young man staring angrily at him in the moonlight. It wasn't the bait kid…but this one would work just as well. "Where's Dean?" He asked and pulled suggestively at his pants and Sam thought he was definitely going to be sick. A sudden thought occurred to him that hadn't up to this point…what if the wounds that they could see on the outside of his brother's body…weren't the worst thing that happened to him? _Oh my God…no…no…_he thought as an almost tangible pain worked its way into his soul...those bastards did not rape my brother...

"You're not going to touch him…ever again." Sam seethed through his teeth, pulling his shotgun up and aiming at the man.

"Oh…I've already _touched_ him…" the man said with a sadistic grin. "Where do you think he got that new fancy design on his skin…and I just want to finish what I started…you see I fancy myself a bit of an artist." Sam's finger's tightened on the weapon as his anger built like a volcano inside…this man had hurt his brother. He lunged forward, and felt the weapon being blocked as it was twisted out of Sam's grip and thrown into the rushing water. Sam swung and slammed his fist into the man's surprised face…and then he dropped sweeping his leg under the guy and watched as he tumbled to the ground.

Sam struggled to pull himself upright as the guys hand shot out and grabbed his pant leg forcing Sam to come down hard on his knees. He grunted in pain as stones dug into his kneecaps and he threw his hands forward to keep from hitting his face too. Sam felt the increased pressure as the guy crawled up and straddled him from behind, forcing Sam into a prone position...his fingers twining painfully into Sam's long hair.

Sam felt the hot rancid breath of the man as he leaned down and whispered in his ear. "I put every one of those blistering wounds on your brother…and you know what? He screamed like a little girl...it was beautiful...and I'm going to finish marking that pale flesh…and before this is over…I'll mark yours too." Sam bucked up and slammed his head back into the man's nose and heard the crack of cartilage and a curse as the guy pulled one hand from Sam's hair and pinched his nose to stop the flow of blood.

"Seriously…you and your brother…" he groaned around the pain as he then slammed Sam's head into the ground. The kid's body went limp beneath him and he pulled his large frame off the kid and reached for his nose with the other hand…he wrenched his nose back into place and moaned as pain spluttered through his face. He grabbed his knife and knelt back down over the kid…the boys breathing was still even, meaning that he was still knocked out cold. But as Kale looked at the body of the boy…he was every bit as interested in _playing_ with him as he was in the older boy.

Dean felt himself coming slowly back to consciousness…his head hurt like he'd bashed it into something. And then the memories came flooding back…the water…the branch…and then his brother saving his life…pulling him from the river and… Voices from below pulled him fully into the waking world and he could have sworn that he recognized his brother's voice…and then dread filled him as he recognized the voice of the guy that had tortured him…Kale. _Oh God…no…he didn't get a hold of Sammy…?! _

Dean struggled to pull his knees under him and swallowed the nausea as he got himself up. The pain that lanced through his system making his vision go white at the edges…_but this was for Sammy_… The sounds of struggle below and then a sudden silence had Dean forcing himself quietly over the edge of the rock. His fingers had closed around the knife that someone had left near his hand…Sam...he gulped back a gasp as his feet touched the rocks below and white hot pain burned through the soles of his feet and up his legs.

But the sight of Kale…leaning over Sam…his little brother not moving had Dean forcing down all the pain and slipping up behind the large man just as his hands reached for Sam's jeans. _Oh fuck no!_ Dean thought as white hot rage coursed through him and he grabbed the man's hair hauling his head back exposing a long expanse of skin and then slipping the knife along the jugular. Dean didn't even think about it…all he saw was what the man was getting ready to do to his little brother and that was enough to turn off any humanity that usually held his violent nature in check.

The blood coursed down the man's chest and splattered over Sam's back, but his eyes connected with the kid that had just killed him and they widened in shock even as his body fell to the side. His eyes still wide open as he gurgled his last breath.

Dean struggled to pull the man's large frame off his brother and then felt his adrenaline rush wearing off as the pain came back full force. Sam started to groan as Dean collapsed next to him, his fingers gently touching the blood on Sam's head where it had been slammed into the rocky ground. The confused blue-green gaze that was looking up at Dean a moment later had Dean trying to smile even as his body failed and he dropped into unconsciousness. His hand falling limply from his brother's face, landing on the rocks as the light faded and he was gone.

Sam tried to focus around the aching in his head…he looked up at his brother; who had been watching him with such a look of family devotion…that it made Sam's head swim. And then he was sitting frantically up as he watched Dean's eyes roll back in his head and he slumped to the ground. "Dean!" Sam cried. He reached forward and taking his brother's face between his hands. And then his gaze was being drawn to the dead body that was lying off to the side. He knew that _he_ hadn't killed the man…and then he remembered what the guy had whispered in his ear just before he was knocked out. The things that he said he had done to Dean…and that he still planned to do to his older brother. And Sam found that he couldn't muster up any regret that the man had died…although he wished it had been by his hands…and not the hands of his brother. Sam brought his palm to his head, feeling the blood as it coated his fingers and then he shook his head slightly to try and clear the slightly fuzzy feeling. Sam's eyes catching the glint of his knife in the moonlight near Dean's limp hand and suddenly Sam knew that his brother had killed this man.

He reached out and picked up the knife and then started looking for his gun…finally noticing that his handgun was also missing. Sam was startled when the handle of his Taurus was placed directly in front of his face as his gaze shot up and he was relieved when he looked into the concerned eyes of the Pastor. He reached out and took his gun and then repositioned himself near Dean's head.

"He okay?" The Pastor had always taken great interest in Sam and Dean…he'd been a family friend for as long as Sam could remember and he trusted the man almost as much as he did his own father.

Sam glanced down and furrowed his forehead as worry worked its way onto his young face. "I think so…just passed out. His pulse is strong and he's breathing…that's a little shallow…but I think that's because of the broken ribs and…" Sam paused as he closed his eyes and a wave of nausea passed. "…and all the other injuries."

The older man nodded and pulled his own jacket off, placing it over the shivering Winchester as Sam continued to hold his head on his folded legs. "We need to get him off this mountain Sam."

"What about dad?" His eyes grazed the forest that was just starting to brighten as the sun threatened to rise on the horizon.

"Your dad's one tough guy Sam…between him and Bobby…I think they got this covered. Plus Bobby's got that FBI friend on the way…guy might actually already be here." Jim leaned down to try and help Sam up when an arrow flew just over their heads and imbedded itself in the trunk of a tree.

"I'm afraid I can't let you take the bait." A voice said as a large boy, barely older than Sam, stepped out of the treeline. His next arrow was aimed right at Dean's heart and Sam could barely contain the rage that flooded through him. If this kid thought that he was going to lose his brother now? Man did he have another thought coming. Sam barely had time to think as he grabbed the gun that had been resting in his hand, concealed under the coat covering his unconscious brother.

TBC…

**Author's Note:** _So this chapter is getting out of control. It's huge, so again it's split…the next one will focus on Sam and Jack…and also on John, Bobby, and Silas…plus getting Dean off the mountain and the take down of this sick little 'survivor' ring. Sorry for the multiple cliff hangers…but the chapter just kept getting bigger and bigger…so I wanted to chop it up a bit. Hope you enjoy. Thank you so much to all the guest reviewers that I cannot PM and also the reviewers I have PM'd. You guys rock! _

**Please Review: I have been astounded by your amazing reviews. Please keep them coming and I promise I'll get Dean out this mess quickly.**


	7. RetributionPart Two

**Legalities: **_Supernatural does not belong to me, although I wish it did. I am simply playing in Kripke's sandbox for a bit. All rights and ownership are the property of Kripke and the CW network. I am not making any money from this; it is for my own personal pleasure._

**Synopsis:** _Dean is taken after a fight with a fifteen year old Sam. Clues are scarce and Sam is barely holding it together as he and their father search frantically for the middle Winchester…before the people holding him…torture him to death or force him to participate in a sick little game that they've been engaging in for years with unsuspecting young male tourists._

**Idea:** This little fiction has a storyline, but it is unabashed hurt!Dean with extremely angsty!Sam and worried!John. It will contain graphic depictions of torture as the story unfolds…if you don't like to read this type of thing, or if you are going to flame it…don't read it. _This is purely a selfish little piece_ that I decided to share.

**Please Review: Thank you so much to all of you that reviewed the previous chapter. It was great to hear what you thought. Thank you to all 'Guest' reviewers that I cannot PM. Please continued letting me know what you think. **

**_Also, this is a very dark little piece of fiction, so please read all warnings at the start of the chapters, because there will be depictions of torture, like in this one, so be prepared and don't read it if you're not into this type of thing._**

**Chapter Seven**

_Retribution…Part Two_

Sam's eyes narrowed as he shifted the gun in his hand, silently taking the safety off beneath the jacket. Pastor Jim stared at the young man that was threatening them and shook his head in sadness. Those men had really brain washed the kid. "You don't have to do this." He said quietly, his eyes flickering to where Sam had carefully placed his body between the kid and Dean. His brother hadn't moved since he'd collapsed over Sam after killing Kale…and that had Sam worried. It couldn't be a good thing that Dean wasn't responding to the things going on around him, Sam knew that if he could, his brother would have been awake and in full protect mode. Dean's body was shivering, but whether that was from the cold or the fever that he'd developed while in that camp…Sam wasn't sure.

"No…I don't. But I want to." And then the kid was running forward, his arrow trained directly where Sam now blocked his shot which was directly aimed at the chest of the 'bait'. The kid screamed in anger and then released the arrow as continued to close the distance between him and his target, it sailed through the air and Sam shifted again, twisting his body, so his back was to the kid, causing the arrow to sink painfully into his shoulder blade. Agony flared and Sam grunted in response, but he turned and pulled the hand gun free in one fluid motion, two bullets immediately flying out aimed center mass and then one to the head just to be sure. _Good thing dad taught us those failure drills until I was ready to puke…_He thought quickly as muscle memory took over. Sam wasn't about to take any chances where Dean's safety was concerned. The Pastor stared in shock at how quickly this whole situation had spiraled out of control, the bullets flashing from the muzzle of the youngest Winchester's weapon before the other boy had done more than release his one arrow and move six feet.

Sam dropped the gun and brought his hand up to reached for the shaft of the metal arrow, he groaned as he felt how deeply the damn thing had gone into the shoulder blade. Jim knelt down and gently touched the smooth metal of the shaft; the blood was just starting to flow as Sam turned pained eyes in his direction. "Pull it out." He said through clenched teeth, his eyes squeezed shut against the intensity of the agony shooting through his body.

The older man's eyes widened at that. He knew that if the arrow had hit anything vital, leaving it in was the only thing keeping the kid from bleeding out. But the determined look on Sam's face had him nodding and reaching for the blood slicked shaft. "One…two…" And he pulled, wincing as Sam cried out in pain. The head of the arrow was barbed and pulled out with difficulty, causing as much damage coming out as it had going in and that had Sam biting his lip to try and keep quiet. "Sorry…sorry." Jim said as he pulled a bandage from his pack and wrapped the wound as best he could under the circumstances. It was located in an awkward spot and made applying pressure extremely difficult…but he managed. Sam had sank back to the ground near Dean's head, his hands resting gently on his brother, the gun lying in close proximity should it be needed again.

"We need to get him out." Sam said in a pained whisper as he turned worried eyes on the Pastor.

"I don't think we can move him without the help of the others…not with you injured."

Sam narrowed his eyes as he thought, the fingers of his uninjured hand reaching up to run through his long brown hair. He wondered if there was a chance that the other boys would find where they were hiding. He knew that he didn't have too many more fights left in him and as he looked down at Dean's unconscious form he worried that Dean might not have much _will_ left to fight.

Sam looked over at the body of the kid he had just killed and a part of him wondered if he'd just signed his own first class ticket to hell. But as he felt the slow but steady rise and fall of his brother's chest beneath his palms he knew that he'd done the right thing. And besides if he was going to hell, then at least he'd be in good company…because Dean would be in the seat next to him. Sam knew that they had not had a choice, both of those men would have killed them…and that first guy would have done some really terrible things before he did….and that brought his thoughts back around to what exactly his brother had suffered over the last week.

Silent tears ran down his cheeks as he prayed that Dean hadn't been abused on a sexual level. Because how did a person come back from that? Torture? Well that was going to be hard enough to deal with…but rape…?! Sam had no idea how they would help his stubborn older brother if that had happened. _Please God…not that…_

XXXX

John was moving silently through the slowly brightening forest, a rainbow of colors forming a more vivid picture of where they were, when he heard the gravel crunching off to his right. He immediately stopped and dropped into a defensive position, his weapon at the ready as he flicked off the safety with his thumb. Bobby had gone to the left, he was setting up booby-traps all along the ridge line…one thing that old hunter was good for was…traps. John lowered his head as he saw two men trudge into the clearing just ahead of him. One was the tall bastard that he'd seen talking to Dean when he'd been tied in the center of the camp. But the other was not someone he'd seen yet. The guy wasn't as big as the first, but he looked like he could certainly hold his own in a fight, they were speaking in low hushed tones and John strained to hear what they were saying.

"So they're all saying that they can't find that kid?" The shorter man scrubbed a hand down his face in frustration as he waited for directions. It was obvious who the on in charge was...and it wasn't this guy.

"Apparently so…Jack thought he was onto something and followed it to the river…but it disappeared into the water, so it couldn't have been that kid. The others haven't seen a single sign that he's even out here in these woods, Silas." The shorter man responded with irritation. They'd never lost a bait boy before…and this year it would seem that they'd lost two. The first one that had died near the highway and then this damn kid that they'd taken as a replacement.

John bit back his rising anger and waited until they started moving again, his feet moving almost silently among the thick carpet of leaves and line needles. He had a knife sitting within easy reach on his belt and the pistol in his hand was trained on the smaller of the two men. He wanted to kill Silas, the son of a bitch, with his bare hands…there would be no quick painless death by bullet for the man that was at the heart of this sick operation.

They turned and started up a small incline and John took his chance. The silencer on his weapon making a barely audible 'whoosh' as the bullet caught the smaller man in the back of the head and he tumbled forward. John knew that he was dead before he hit the ground…that had been the point. Silas brought his own weapon up instantly, his eyes searching the forest for the shooter. "Come on out." He called loudly as he continued to scan the treeline. John held his ground as he watched the man…something about him made John want to face him without weapons…what they'd done to Dean making him want to take this man down without the use of a gun.

"You took my son…" John called Ina rough voice from inside the dark foliage. He waited as that processed on the man's face, his eyes going wide with surprise and then narrowing; before he answered with a derisive tone and a sneer formed on his scarred face.

"Which one? Which one of the many boys I have taken belonged to you?" He called loudly, twisting and watching for any movement that would give him an idea just where this 'father' was hiding at.

"The one you called _bait_." John yelled angrily. Now he had the man's full attention, he smiled and nodded as he holstered his weapon, holding up his now empty hands.

"Ah…well that explains the tactical approach." He grinned maliciously before continuing. "I figured that kid had more training than the rest of them…he just struck me as stronger. He certainly took more abuse from Kale than any of the others would have survived." A chuckle wound its way out of his throat and had John wishing he could slice out the man's tongue.

"Yeah…and I'm going to cut your heart out for that." John's voice was low and threatening as he materialized from the trees, allowing the man to finally see him fully. His face was gruff and the rage was barely concealed as he watched the sick bastard that had almost robbed him of his eldest boy. "You should really check into the family's background before you just grab a kid." He forced out through clenched teeth.

The man laughed out right now and nodded his agreement. "I suppose that would have made sense in this case. That kid seemed to have a little too much on the ball to be a typical college student." He sobered and then continued as the light continued to filter into the valley as morning threatened. "So how do you want to handle this? I kill you? You kill me? What?"

John glared at the man and tilted his head to the side, pulling out his nine inch silver blade and holding it up; allowing the increasing light to reflect off the deadly looking weapon. Silas's eyebrows went up as he took in the impressive weapon, and then he reached behind his back and pulled out a steel bowie knife. "Okay…knives then?"

The father of the kid stared at him with contempt and nodded his agreement. "Both of us pull our handguns and leave them on the edge of this circle." John said as he set down the.45 caliber Berretta he'd been concealing in the back of his jeans and the shotgun he hadn't been hiding. The man watched him with hawk like eyes and then pulled out his own .345 revolver and set it carefully on a rock near his feet. He ignored the small 9mm pistol that was tucked inside his boot as he stepped into the circle and motioned for John to do the same.

"So that kid that Kale tortured…that was your son?" He called as they circled one another. A part of him had known that there was a strong likelihood that eventually they would accidentally take a kid that a pissed off parent would come looking for…but he hadn't thought it would be this one. The kid wasn't dressed well, he'd driven an old classic car…hell, he hadn't even had much money on him. But looking at the man watching him from across the circle had Silas reevaluating this kids worth…and his father's training. The man carried the knife with an ease that spoke of comfort with weapons…he'd obviously been well trained and had a lot of experience in the use of weapons in general. "What branch?" He asked as it occurred to him where he'd seen this type of defensive style before.

"What?" John asked, his eyes narrowing as he tried to figure out just what the hell this guy's game was.

"What branch of the military did you serve in?" Silas asked again as they continued to circle one another waiting for one of them to rush the other and start this deadly game on its way to a conclusion.

John glared at the man and snorted. "Marines."

The guy raised his eyebrows and whistled as he continued to assess this man's ability. He was obviously skilled, judging from the way he held the knife. It was twisted back and the non-lethal side of the blade was resting comfortably along his forearm, which would make it easier to slash at his opponent rather than trying to stab at them. This might not have been such a good idea, he thought…but then he remembered the concealed gun in his boot and launched himself at the father.

John saw the man's intention a split second before he committed to the action and he was side stepping and slashing out with his blade as the man missed him. He caught the guy on his shoulder and there was a hiss of pain as the silver of John's blade cut through his clothing and bit into the flesh and muscle. The man turned and waited as John took the advantage and moved forward, his blade arching back around in a figure eight and barely missing the guy's chest when he managed to twist at the last second. He struck out with his own steel blade and was satisfied when he saw it slice down John's cheek, leaving a bloody trail as he tried to capitalize on the father's distraction and pull the knife around for another slicing motion. John struck out with his elbow and caught the guy under the chin, making his head snap back and his blade to miss its intended mark.

The eldest Winchester managed to sweep his leg out, catching the man behind the knees and watching as he crashed forward and John was able to slam his fist into the man's face. He missed the sweep of the guy's arm as he brought the blade slashing across his mid-section…barely avoiding what would have been a disemboweling slice…his shirt however, was not so lucky. I long slice appeared across his stomach as the material tore and John was glad that he'd managed to avoid that. He brought his blade back up and slammed the handle of the knife into the man's face, watching with satisfaction as blood spouted from the guys nose.

A fist slamming into his kidneys jarred him from his power position and he fell to his knees next to the other man. But John had figured that they'd wind up in this position at some point, he was just swinging his blade for another slice across the guy's chest when he saw him reaching for something in his boot…_hidden handgun._ He thought with a sudden rush of anger…no integrity…he changed the arc of the blade and watched as it fell across the man's exposed neck. The immediate splash of hot liquid as the carotid artery was severed catching John's face as then man looked at him in surprise and then confusion as the pistol in his hand tumbled to the ground.

John Winchester watched as the man's eyes widened in shock and he gurgled something that he couldn't understand. He pitched forward and John scrambled out of the way as he hit the ground and his blood pumped out onto the pine needles.

Nothing…John felt nothing…no remorse…no regret…nothing. He slowly pulled himself to his feet and limped over to where his gun was sitting, he replaced it in his waistband and then walked over retrieving the weapons that the other man had carried. Couldn't just leave useful weapons lying around... He glanced down at the shiny star on the man's chest and he grunted as he pushed past the body and disappeared into the forest…leaving the memory that this man wasn't a supernatural monster…not in the conventional sense…but certainly a monster in John's mind...alone in that clearing.

He was about ten minutes up the trail when Bobby finally caught up with him. He took one look at the blood that had dried on the eldest Winchester's face and nodded his approval without even asking what had happened. He knew what had happened…the bastard that had taken Dean had found John or John had found him...and then John had killed the man…a human.

"My friend, Agent Adam's, has arrested the men that were still in the camp and there is another set of investigators that has gone after anyone that had access to the private web channel. Several of the boys have also been taken into custody, although the big one you told me about? He wasn't among them." Bobby watched as John's head snapped up at that and he was suddenly moving quickly in the direction that they'd left the boys.

XXXX  
The sun had completely filled the valley with soft yellow light when John and Bobby pounded back into the area where the boys and the Pastor had been stashed. Sam's eyes shot up to meet his fathers as John slowed to a walk and dropped to his knees next to his son…reaching out to touch the bloody bandage on his youngest son's shoulder and the dried blood on his forehead. His sharp eyes taking in the two dead bodies that the pastor had dragged over near the edge of the water.

"You okay?" He asked as he ignored them and instead focused on the pained face of his son.

Sam nodded slowly and then looked down at Dean. "He needs a doctor dad…" A sob worked its way up out of the kid's throat as he looked brokenly at his father. "I couldn't help carry him…my shoulder." He leaned forward as John enveloped him in a hug…

"You kept him alive Sam…you protected your brother." John said softly as he held his son and waited for him to get control of himself again, he didn't have to wait long. "We can carry him out."

The trip out of the secluded mountain area was treacherous; the fact that they were carrying a severely injured man…considering Dean was over six feet tall and fairly heavily muscled for a nineteen year old, no easy task. It took well over two hours to finally break free of the trees and the sight of the Impala was one that Sam had never been so glad to see. His back was almost sheer agony as he tried to ignore where the arrow had pierced his skin, his eyes never leaving the unconscious form of his older brother, as they walked. It worried him that Dean never moved or even regained any semblance of coherent behavior the entire trek back to the cars. His father had been very quiet and that has Sam's concern rising as they finally laid Dean in the backseat, with Sam supporting his head and watching his shallow breathing.

XXXX

The drive over to the next county, they couldn't afford to be connected with the camp, for an ER was nerve racking for both father and son. John had tried to wipe the blood from his face, so that he could take his sons in and get them the medical treatment that they desperately needed. But he hadn't been able to wipe the thoughts from his own mind that he hadn't been able to protect them from even normal human beings. He had spent his life trying to ensure that his sons were never victims…and as he looked in the rear-view mirror where Sam was holding Dean's head in his lap…that was what he was worried he saw, they had both survived, but they never should have been targeted in the first place.

Sam's head had lolled against the door and he had dropped into a fitful sleep as John had driven. Bobby and Jim had followed in John's truck and they'd head back to get Bobby's truck from the motel and clean out the rooms before meeting the Winchesters at the hospital.

Once John had pulled into the emergency lane, he jumped out, rushing around the car and getting the attention of two orderlies that were smoking on the sidewalk, sending them in to get two gurneys. Once the staff saw the amount of blood and the state that Dean was in…the boys had been separated, Sam rushed into one room and Dean rushed into another. Sam had protested being separated from his brother, but John had overruled the angry and confused teen. They both needed care and it couldn't happen in the same room.

A nurse had also noticed that John had a gash on his own cheek and had insisted on taking him back to sew it up and then he was sent to the waiting room.

And there he sat…waiting for news about both his sons…one that had been shot with an arrow and may require surgery and possible had a concussion. And the other that had been tortured and who knew what else had been done to him. John was a little concerned about the possible list of injuries that Dean may have sustained…he hoped that they were all fixable. Because the look on the man's face when he talked about what that bastard 'Kale' had done to his son? It had turned John's blood to ice…and waiting here in this room wasn't doing anything to warm it back up.

TBC…

**Author's Note****_:_**_ Next chapter will deal with the aftermath and the recovery along with the FBI and their involvement in breaking up this fight ring. And Sam will finally get the chance to apologize to Dean for his horrific words at the beginning of the story._

**Please Review: It has been inspiring to read your reviews, please let me know what you thought of this chapter.**


	8. Sams Confession

**Legalities: **_Supernatural does not belong to me, although I wish it did. I am simply playing in Kripke's sandbox for a bit. All rights and ownership are the property of Kripke and the CW network. I am not making any money from this; it is for my own personal pleasure._

**Synopsis:** _Dean is taken after a fight with a fifteen year old Sam. Clues are scarce and Sam is barely holding it together as he and their father search frantically for the middle Winchester…before the people holding him…torture him to death or force him to participate in a sick little game that they've been engaging in for years with unsuspecting young male tourists._

**Idea:** This little fiction has a storyline, but it is unabashed hurt!Dean with extremely angsty!Sam and worried!John. It will contain graphic depictions of torture as the story unfolds…if you don't like to read this type of thing, or if you are going to flame it…don't read it. _This is purely a selfish little piece_ that I decided to share.

**Please Review: Thank you so much to all of you that reviewed the previous chapter. It was great to hear what you thought. Thank you to all 'Guest' reviewers that I cannot PM. Please continued letting me know what you think. You guys are AMAZING! Thanks for all the awesome reviews...I love them.**

**_Also, this is a very dark little piece of fiction, so please read all warnings at the start of the chapters, because there will be depictions of torture, so be prepared and don't read it if you're not into this type of thing._**

**Chapter Eight**

_Sam's Confession_

John was starting to go a little crazy, he hadn't heard anything about either of his sons in well over two hours and his last nerve was really being tested here. _Something that people that really knew him…wasn't a good thing. _Bobby sat down in the cloth chair next to his friend and handed him a steaming cup of the best coffee that the cafeteria had to offer…_which wasn't saying much._ He thought as he tasted his own very bitter black brew. Pastor Jim had gone back to the Motel to pull all of their gear and secure a couple of rooms in this county since judging by Dean's injuries it was highly likely that they would be here for a while. Something else that John hated…he couldn't just take his sons and leave this fucked up state all together.

John's blue eyes roamed the white emergency waiting area as he tried to ignore the aroma of bleach and sanitizer that always accompanied a hospital; he sighed as he scrubbed a hand down his face, careful to avoid the seven stiches he had received thanks to that bastard Silas. When he'd seen the state of his eldest son he wished he'd taken the time to pay the bastard back in kind.

Bobby looked over at him and sighed himself. "They're gonna be okay. Those two are the toughest boys that I have ever had the pleasure of knowing…" He said and pulled his ball cap off, to scratch his head before replacing it and looking pointedly at John…waiting for a response.

"I just…I always thought that if I protected them and taught them…about what was out there…that they'd be safe…well safer anyways." His voice lowered before he continued, surprising the older hunter. It wasn't usual for John Winchester to share with anyone…not even his own sons. "But this wasn't a monster…Bobby this was a whole new set of evil that I'm not sure I ever taught my sons to recognize." He stopped and gulped back another swig of the bitter coffee and then leaned forward. His elbows supporting his weight on his bent knees. "What if that guy…what if he did something to Dean?" The oldest Winchester's voice broke slightly before he continued again. "What if it was more than torture?"

Bobby's eyes flashed up to meet his and his mouth dropped open as he suddenly understood what his friend was saying. He was suggesting that those son of a bitches might have _raped_ his oldest son? His mind immediately rebelled against the mere possibility that Dean might have had to suffer through something like that. Damn-it the kid was stronger than most adult men that Bobby knew…but _rape?_ That changed people on a level that some never came back from…and Bobby wasn't sure if Dean was one of those or not. He hoped like hell that that hadn't happened. Hell, the damn kid had suffered enough without adding that to the long list of things that Dean dealt with daily.

"Do you know for sure that happened?" Bobby asked quietly. His gaze flickering up as a woman and bawling child came through the siding doors and headed to the desk.

John shook his head miserably. "No. And that's the problem, Bobby. That guy _hinted_ that something had happened…but I don't _know_ a damn thing." His voice was picking up tension and volume as he spoke.

"Okay. Well, if we don't know for sure…let's not put the cart before the horse…John, you gotta wait until that boy wakes up and then talk to him. Can't nothing be done about it now…whatever happened while those bastards had Dean…" He sighed sadly and patted John's shoulder sympathetically. "We can't change it. But we can be there for that kid in there." He pointed at the double doors that the medical professionals had rolled his son through hours ago.

John looked over at his oldest friend and finally nodded. Bobby was right…he needed to hold it together until he had all the facts and then he could go crawl in his truck and fall apart…far away from both his sons prying eyes…and ears. Because there was no way that he was going to allow those two boys to see that this little incident had very nearly broken his own resolve. It had simply proven to him that he _couldn't_ protect his boys from all the evils of the world…supernatural or otherwise.

"I think I need another cup of coffee." John said as he swallowed and looked for a way out of this unauthorized '_chick-flick moment'_…as Dean would call it. That thought had him smiling slightly. The bizarre aversion to emotional conversations that both he and his eldest son shared…something that Sam seemed to have inherited from Mary…his constant need to 'talk things out'.

"Mr. Smith?" A voice called, just as John was getting up to get more coffee.

He spun in the direction of the voice and raised his hand; Bobby quickly stood up and took his empty Styrofoam cup. They both waited as a tall man in his mid-forties crossed the sterile waiting area, his clipboard held tightly in one hand and the scrubs he wore indicating that he was some kind of surgeon and not the ER doctor.

"My name is Doctor Cavenaugh. Your son…" He glanced down at the paperwork and then back at the anxious faces in front of him. "Sam?"

John quickly nodded and the doctor's eye went to Bobby, silently asking if he could talk about the boy's condition in front of the other man. "Oh, this is Bobby Singer. He's the boy's uncle…on their mother's side."

The medical doctor nodded. "Well, Sam came through surgery with flying colors. The arrow did a fair amount of damage…but it was easily corrected in surgery." John exhaled his held breath and then glanced over at Bobby, who also smiled. "He will need some moderate physical therapy to help regain the full range of motion, due to the shoulder blade being punctured by the arrow, but I expect a full recovery. He did suffer a mild concussion so I want to keep him overnight at a minimum for observation." The doctor watched as the boy's father listened intently to the diagnosis.

John raised his eyebrows and blew out a long slow breath. "What about my other son?" He asked quietly.

The doctor shook his head sadly. "I'm sorry but I am not in charge of his case, so I don't have any of those facts. I believe Doctor Rivera is handling that one." He smiled sympathetically when John's hopeful expression was replaced with one of frustration. "Tell you what….why don't I go see if I can find something out for you?" He felt sorry for this man that had brought his sons in…both of those boys had been in really poor condition, but the eldest one…he'd been a disaster.

John nodded slowly and sank back into the chair, his head shaking slowly at the whole situation. Bobby furrowed his eyebrows and then went to retrieve his friend another cup of coffee. It was about the only thing that he could do for the man…it was going to be a very long couple of hours.

XXXX

_Sam watched as his brother pulled the handgun up and explained the breathing required to attain a good shot. "When you breathe, you'll find at the bottom of the breath there is a moment when you don't have to breathe…that's when you take the shot." He demonstrated and hit two of the glass bottles in rapid succession. _

_Sam nodded his understanding and reached forward with his still somewhat chubby eight year old hands. Their father had insisted that Dean be the one to teach Sam…he wanted to know that the kid understood the principles well enough to explain it to his little brother. It was a test of sorts…one that Dean had no intension of failing._

_Sam picked up the .45 and took careful aim, his small hands barely hanging onto the grip of the handgun. He squinted with his right eye and felt his brother's hand drop onto his shoulder. "Try to aim out of both eyes Sammy. And when the sights cross the target, don't jerk the trigger, pull it slowly back. It should always be a bit of a surprise when the gun actually discharges."_

_Sam glanced over at this twelve year old bother, nodded, and then looked back where their father was leaning casually against the Impala. "Anything else?" He asked somewhat flippantly. Dean raised his right eyebrow in reproof and Sam swallowed his next comment._

_"Yeah…try and lock your shoulders, but not your elbows…so the recoil isn't as bad." Dean stepped back and watched as Sam took careful aim, his tongue slipping between his lips in concentration. When he finally pulled the trigger there was a satisfying crack as one of the glass bottles 25 meters away exploded._

_Dean jumped up and ran up to Sam, taking the gun and then putting the safety on as he pulled his little brother's grinning form into a hug. "That was amazing Sammy…great job."_

Sam's brain slowly pulled him from the dream/memory and his eyes started to flutter open. He groaned as the pain of his shoulder caught up with his head and he pulled his heavy eyelids open. The solid form of his father resting in a chair was the first thing that he saw. But not the person he wished was sitting there…the groggy feeing from the anesthesia making his confused brain search for his older brother instead. "Dad? Where's Dean?" he asked. Sam's voice was thick and sleepy sounding and had John on his feet and next the bed immediately. He reached out and ran a gentle hand through his youngest son's long hair…_they were going to have to get the kid to a barber soon._ He thought fondly.

"Sammy…how you feeling buddy?" He asked as he reached behind and pulled the chair over, sliding into it once again…his blue eyes never leaving his son's face.

Sam blinked slowly and tried to remember what exactly had happened. Their father would do almost anything to avoid trips to the hospital…_and where is Dean?_ And then his memories caught up…the fight with his older brother…the terrifying week and half that Dean had been missing…and finally the rescue and the fact that he'd killed a human. He squeezed his eyes shut as the memories bombarded his already taxed brain and a slight moan of denial slipped out. "Dean?" He asked again. His worried blue-green gaze searching out his fathers for any information, he started to struggle to sit up and was immediately pressed back into the white bed.

"Doctor should be coming soon to let us know how he is." John said as Sam looked up at him in confusion.

"They still don't know?" He whispered. His brother's injuries would have had to be really bad if he'd gone through surgery and then woken up hours later and the doctors still hadn't given their father an update.

John was just getting ready to answer when there was a knock on Sam's door and a short elderly Hispanic man stepped in. "Mr. Smith?" He asked.

John nodded and Sam grabbed his father's hand realizing that he was going to step out to talk with Dean's doctor. "Dad…I need to know." Sam said in a small broken voice, his eyes wide and childlike as he pulled strength from his father's presence.

John glanced down and then gave him the slightest nod. "Yeah…that's me. How's my son?" Part of him was scared to death to learn what had actually happened to his eldest son.

"I'm doctor Rivera…and I'm the surgeon in charge of Dean's case." He looked pointedly at Sam. "Can you step outside?"

Sam's hand clenched almost painfully at his fathers, as his eyes pleading with him stay and let Sam hear this. "No, it's fine doctor. He needs to know what's going on with his brother…he might as well hear it from the professional."

The doctor nodded, but looked unconvinced that it was a good idea. "Well, to be quite honest your son is a mess. The severe concussion is a major concern, he appears to have been hit multiple times in the head and that has caused some swelling to the brain…and he is still unconscious. We will need to perform surgery on his right shoulder; the rotator cuff was severely torn. The abrasions on his wrists have developed an infection that we are treating as best we can…his back and feet are whole nother story. Due to the nature of the injuries we were required to notify the cops, he appears to have been whipped with something and then there are burns that look like they were used to cauterize deep incisions all along his ribs and lower back…his feet have several deep lacerations that required stiches to close and some deep bruising…they will be very painful to walk on for a while…"

Sam was getting more and more pale as he listened to the extensive list of his brother's injuries…Dean was going to need help for a long time based on these. John squeezed his son's hand and continued to listen intently as the doctor continued. He was hopeful that they wouldn't be told that his son had also suffered rape on top of all this.

"…He had another laceration to his left leg; it also needed quite a few stiches to close. His back remains a significant problem, mainly because much of the skin had to be removed or covered, he will have a fair amount of scarring, some of that we can help with…some of it will be permanent. The last problem that we are having with him is that he has sustained three broken ribs, one of them shifted and was sitting against the left lung, there was a small tear and the lung collapsed in surgery while I was repairing the damage. Dean is currently on a respirator with a chest tube to help with any drainage and the re-inflation of that lung, at least until the lung is strong enough to support him on its own." He looked empathetically at the father and the brother and then sighed. "I'm not going to sugar coat this Mr. Smith…your son is in critical condition, if he makes it through the next two days, then I believe I can safely say that he should make a full recovery…but right now it's simply too close to call. I will keep you updated on his condition as it changes."

"Can I see him?" Sam asked quietly, beating his father to the request. The doctor looked at the youth and recognized the fear warring with hope in the young man's eyes. He wanted to keep Dean under close observation, but the wounded face of the kid had him rethinking his immediate response.

"Normally I would say no…but I think your family has suffered greatly here and I'm going to allow a short visit." Sam looked up his father, who took the hint and helped him sit up, grabbing the IV pole as Sam's feet slipped into the hospital slippers and he stood slowly. His head rebelled and nausea burned in the back of his throat, he swallowed it with some difficulty before allowing his dad to help support him on his good side. The injured shoulder screamed in pain as he shifted to alleviate some of it; he bit back the groan and moved slowly after the doctor.

Sam almost lost his nerve as they approached Dean's quiet room on the ICU floor. His brother was lying deathly still, his larger than life presence clearly absent. Tears burned in Sam's eyes as he looked at all the medical equipment that was required to keep his brother from dying…he swallowed hard against the lump of emotion that threatened to spill over as his father helped him sink into the recliner chair next to Dean's bed, positioning his own IV pole next to him. The doctor nodded at John and turned to leave the pair…John patted Sam on his good shoulder and told him to wait here…he wanted to ask the doctor something. Sam nodded automatically, his movements almost robot like as he simply stared at the incredibly still form of his brother. It was disconcerting to see…because Dean was almost never still, he was always singing or banging on something like a set of drums…he was a ball of constant motion.

Finally Sam reached out and gently touched Dean's bandaged hand, the warm flesh bringing some comfort that his older brother was still with him. Sam felt the first tear steak down his cheek and then he was talking…everything that he wanted to say to his brother…everything that he needed to say to his brother.

"Dean…I'm so sorry. I never meant what I said in the hotel…I was mad and I took it out on you…and I can't tell you how sorry I am for that." Sam felt more tears join the first and his voice took on a tight strained quality as he continued to babble. "I don't hate you Dean…I could never hate you. You have taken care of me since I was 6 months old…and I will always love you for that. I've looked up to you since I was four…wanted to be just like my big brother…" He gulped a sob back and forged forward, leaving his entire heart in that room. "I guess I fell pretty short on that mark…huh? When you get out of here, I'm gonna be better Dean…I'm going to fight with dad less…and I'm going to help you more. I promise you I am, big brother….but you have to hang on…you have to fight Dean. I can't…if you're not here…I can't do this without you. Me and dad…we'll kill each other without you there to center us both. Dean you're the heart of this messed up thing we call a family…please…" Sam finally found that his voice broke and he could no longer continue.

He was still holding onto Dean's hand when he felt a flicker in the muscles…his eyes flashed back up to his brother's face and he stared in surprise when he saw the intense green of his brother's eyes through barely opened eyelids. It was only a moment and then they closed again and Dean sank off into a medical induced sleep…the heart rate monitor beeping steadily in the corner. Sam couldn't help the slight smile that played at the corners of his lips when he looked down and realized that Dean had intertwined their fingers…silently reassuring his little brother that he _would fight…_and that he'd at least heard some of what Sam had confessed.

XXXX

"Doctor? I have to ask one question…" John said quietly as he shut the door of Sam's room. His voice was strained with emotion as the doctor halted and turned to look at the father of his newest patient.

"Go ahead Mr. Smith." He encouraged and watched as the man visibly pulled his strength and the doctor wondered just what exactly this man needed to know…because he was obviously having difficulty asking.

"Uh…my son…the men that took him…did they…" he swallowed and then plowed through his primary concern…wounds they could deal with, but…he needed to know. "Did they…_rape_ him?"

TBC…

**Author's Note_:_**_ So once again the chapter got long enough that I needed to break it into this one and one more to completely deal with the level of injuries the brother's sustained and the emotional 'feels' that needed to be included here. Thank you to all 'guest' reviewers, as I cannot PM you, but I totally loved reading all of your reviews along with those I was able to PM. _

**Please Review: Your response to this little story had been amazing…please continue letting me know what you think…and I'll continued to write.**


	9. I Don't Blame you, little Brother

**Legalities: **_Supernatural does not belong to me, although I wish it did. I am simply playing in Kripke's sandbox for a bit. All rights and ownership are the property of Kripke and the CW network. I am not making any money from this; it is for my own personal pleasure._

**Synopsis:** _Dean is taken after a fight with a fifteen year old Sam. Clues are scarce and Sam is barely holding it together as he and their father search frantically for the middle Winchester…before the people holding him…torture him to death or force him to participate in a sick little game that they've been engaging in for years with unsuspecting young male tourists._

**Idea:** This little fiction has a storyline, but it is unabashed hurt!Dean with extremely angsty!Sam and worried!John. It will contain graphic depictions of torture as the story unfolds…if you don't like to read this type of thing, or if you are going to flame it…don't read it. _This is purely a selfish little piece_ that I decided to share.

**Please Review: Thank you so much to all of you that reviewed the previous chapter. It was great to hear what you thought. Thank you to all 'Guest' reviewers that I cannot PM. Please continued letting me know what you think. You guys are AMAZING! Thanks for all the awesome reviews...I love them...and they've been instrumental in how fast this story is getting updated...so thanks again.**

**_Also, this is a very dark little piece of fiction, so please read all warnings at the start of the chapters, because there will be depictions of torture, so be prepared and don't read it if you're not into this type of thing._**

**Chapter Nine**

_I Don't Blame you…little Brother_

The doctor stared at the father with wide brown eyes and furrowed his bushy eyebrows. _How long has this man been thinking that? _He wondered silently. When they'd done the initial check of the kid, because of the nature of his injuries they'd checked for _everything_…and now…looking at the worried and uncomfortable face of John Smith, he was extremely grateful that they had. Most times he didn't get to give someone _good_ news in this type of case, many times he was just confirming what they already knew.

"Mr. Smith…I can assure you beyond a shadow of a doubt…that your son _was not_ raped." Dr. Rivera smiled supportively and then gently patted John's arm before turning away.

John visibly deflated at the news. He'd been so terrified that it would be another story…that he felt the tears burning behind his eyes as a lump built in his throat. He simply nodded and watched as the doctor smiled and walked away. _Thank God…_he thought as he turned and passed through the door back into the small private ICU room.

Sam was sitting in the chair next to the bed and he was talking quietly to the silent form of his brother. But what caught John's attention was the fact that Dean's fingers were holding Sam's hand…like he'd taken it on his own. His blue eyes flickered up to meet Sam's gaze in question…Sam nodded a confirmation and John sighed in slight relief.

"He woke up…it was just for a minute…but…dad…I think he knows I'm here." Sam's voice was quiet, but steady as he half smiled at his father. "He knows we're here, dad." He whispered.

John closed his eyes and said a silent 'thank you' to whoever was watching out for his boys and then sat in the plastic chair on the other side of Dean's hospital bed. He took in the injuries, the mottled bruising on his eldest sons face…and the swaths of white bandages that almost mummified Dean. But his color was a little better…not so flushed and he appeared to be sleeping peacefully…at least for the moment. The extent of the injuries was going to be a problem…Dean would need physical therapy and multiple surgeries to heal properly. That had John wondering just exactly how he was going to pull that off and continue to hunt. He wondered if perhaps Bobby would be able to help there…his friend had a steady home and salvage business…perhaps Dean could stay there until he was well enough to hunt again.

XXXX

Dean was floating….well sorta floating…he could still feel slight jars of pain pulsing through his system, but it was almost as if it was happening to someone else. His eyelids were leaden and extremely heavy as he tried to remember just exactly where he was…and how he'd gotten there. Images were shifting through his thoughts and he was trying to grab onto them as they rapidly changed into other images…but they just kept slipping away.

He thought that he recalled Sam, his brother sitting quietly in a chair….his eyes red rimmed and teary as he begged Dean to fight…but that couldn't be right. He'd left Sam in that motel room…and Sam had said that he _hated_ Dean. But that wasn't quite right either, because he could remember Sammy sitting next to him…and telling Dean that he was sorry…or was that just what he wished had happened…? Dean couldn't be sure which thought were fact and which were the rambling fantasies of an injured and heavily medicated mind.

Memories of cold dark water closing over his head had him wanting to wake up…and then there was the burning sensation of his lungs as they screamed for fresh air…they were flashing rapidly through his thoughts and he found himself gasping when he couldn't take a full breath. He started coughing and that set off the sharp shards of pain bolting through his body…which both scared and confused him. _Sammy….what's happening to me…?_ He thought through the pain.

XXXX

Sam had been discharged two days ago…and he still had yet to leave the hospital…though John had tried to get him to go with Bobby and at least take a shower and get some sleep. Sam, however, had talked the nurses into letting him use one of the showers in the hospital, claiming that it would be easier. He'd used his shoulder as a convenient excuse…and they'd taken one look at his puppy-dog eyes and broken expression and let him do pretty much whatever he wanted. _Damn kid had a way of getting what he wanted._ His father had thought in amusement.

Currently he was watching some crappy daytime show in Dean's room, the small thirteen inch tv barely worth calling a 'tv'. His brother hadn't woken up other than that first day and Sam was starting to worry again. He couldn't chance not being here when Dean finally opened his eyes for real. So he rarely left the room. Dean's doctor had tried to explain that there wasn't much of a chance that his brother would be waking up for any length of time any time in the near future. Not with the levels and types of medication that the hospital was keeping him on. The cops had been by and tried to get a statement from both Sam and his father…but there really wasn't much that either Winchester could tell them.

The man from the FBI that Bobby knew…he'd said that they'd managed to arrest nearly every person that had been on the compound…they had not however, been able to get all of the people that had the IP address. So that would be an ongoing investigation…and one that Dean might be called to testify in, should it be necessary. The surviving boys had been returned to extremely happy, if very scared, families…but not without a guarantee that they would be attending therapy to deal with the trauma of their kidnapping.

On the plus side, Dean seemed to be doing okay, he'd never crashed and he didn't seem to be getting any worse as far as the fever was concerned. So Sam waited…

"This stuff is absolute crap Dean." He muttered as he flipped slowly through the limited channels, his nose wrinkling in disgust at what passed as 'entertainment' during the day. His father had gone out to pick up some lunch and then to swing past the motel to make sure that Bobby and Jim were getting on okay. He'd also figured on taking a shower, since he hadn't been blessed with Sam's amazing 'puppy-dog-eyes' that got his youngest son…pretty much whatever he wanted. At least that was what Dean was always telling him.

Sudden movement and a gasping sound pulled Sam's attention from the infomercial he was currently stalled on and he was surprised to see the wide and very confused green eyes of his brother staring at him. Dean was coughing heavily and had reached up with his right hand to claw at the ventilator that was shoved down his throat.

Sam lurched to his feet and hit the call button; and then he was immediately moving to the bed, where he put a comforting hand on Dean's chest, trying to get his brother to look at him. "Dean…calm down…it's a ventilator…you collapsed a lung." Sam said his voice steady and strong, although he was flying apart on the inside, as he watched Dean start to calm down, somewhat, and his emerald colored eyes finally focused on his little brother. "The doctors are on their way…hopefully they can take it out." Sam finished evenly, his heart rate belying the smooth voice he'd managed to maintain as he watched his brother _choke_ on the tube.

Several nurses and Dr. Rivera bustled into the room and Sam slid into a corner as they dealt with the ventilator. Dean's eyes never left Sam's as he listened to the doctor explain how they would remove the machine. "Dean…I need you to blow out the air in your lungs…on three…" Dean nodded, though his eyes remained wide as they prepared to remove the tube.

Dean hacked and blew as the tube was quickly pulled from his sore throat; he coughed for several more moments and then settled back against the pillow. His eyes slipping closed as he pulled in a lungful of air, his ribs reminded him of his injuries and he decided that deep breaths were highly over rated…and his right hand was coming up of its own a cord to rest against his throat…as he tried to ignore the raw burning sensation.

"Sam, can you step out for a moment?" The doctor asked.

Sam turned to look at his big brother, trying to determine if that would upset Dean and send him into another fit. He watched as Dean nodded…he'd heard and understood the request and he was trying to let Sam know that he would be okay. "I'll be right back Dean." Sam said.

Dean still had yet to say anything to him, but he was at least communicating…albeit silently. He watched as his little brother smiled shyly and turned to leave the room…and that was the first time that Dean had gotten a really good look at the kid. He had a sling on his right arm…and there was an extensive amount of white bandaging on the back of the kids shoulder blade…like he'd been shot or something.

That sent an almost tangible thrum of pain through Dean as he wondered just what his father and brother had suffered through to try and save him…? He wouldn't ever want either one of them hurt on his behalf…although he would give up his own life in an instant for either of them. He shifted slightly in the small bed and then immediately regretted the action as pain filtered through his system and he couldn't suppress a groan in response. The doctor stepped up next to the bed, placed a stethoscope on his chest and listened to the lung functions.

He finally moved back and looked down at Dean with a slight smile. "Well Dean…how are you feeling?"

Dean raised an eyebrow at the man and then managed a snort before answering in a very scratchy rough voice. "Could…be worse I guess…I'm alive."

The doctor made a face that told Dean that 'no' it probably couldn't have much worse…not if he'd wanted to survive. Hell, he almost hadn't…Dean had thought that when that black water closed over his head that that was it…his number was up. But the patchy memory of Sammy frantically trying to reach him…trying to _save _him…had warmed the chilled parts of his soul…just a little.

"Your lung collapsed and is not quite strong enough as of yet so…I am not removing that chest tube for another day or two." The doctor said as he wrote something on Dean's chart.

_Well, that explains why I feel like a slurpy…_he thought in slight amusement. There was a sucking sound off to his left and a constant uncomfortable pain in his left side. He'd had a lot of injuries in his nineteen years, but he'd never had to have a chest tube. As he considered that, he decided that if he never had to have one again…it would be too soon. _These son of bitches hurt_.

"Your right shoulder is immobilized due to the torn rotator cuff…we couldn't risk surgery until you were awake and off the ventilator. I would like to schedule that for later this week…since you are over the age of eighteen, I will need your permission for that…I talked to your father…" That had Dean's eyes flying up meet the medical professionals as he furrowed his eyebrows. Immediately he regretted the action as the stitches in his forehead pulled painfully.

"What did he…say?" Dean rasped. He knew that he was far too damaged to sign out of the hospital AMA…but it didn't stop him from wishing that he was almost anywhere else. The smell of the places always made him a bit nauseated and this stay wasn't any different.

"He said he wanted you taken care of…whatever the procedures. He and your brother have been here constantly since you were brought in 2 days ago…in fact I don't think your brother has left your side." The doctor answered with a slight smile and a raised eyebrow. Dean nodded that the surgery was a 'go' when the doctor felt he was strong enough.

He felt an almost heady warmth spreading through his body as the doctor finished depressing a syringe of medication into his IV. _Sammy's been here the whole time?_ He wondered, just where exactly his injured little brother was sleeping…or showering for that matter. "He should go home and…get some sleep." Dean said quietly.

The doctor nodded his agreement and then shook his head. "Yes he should. But he won't leave…keeps saying that he has to talk to you first."

"Oh…" Dean muttered as his eyelids got heavier and heavier…his focus dropping in and out as he felt the steady pull of unconsciousness. He fought it as he watched the doctor leave and Sam slipped quietly passed him and settled once again into the chair by the bed. His eyes taking in the sleepy state of his older brother… "Sammy…" Dean said quietly

Suddenly Sam was nervous…he'd wanted to talk to his brother for the last two weeks…but now as he stared into the tired and pain filled eyes of his older brother…he was scared. Scared that Dean might not forgive him…scared that he'd ruined something between them…scared that Dean _would _forgive him.

Dean saw all the emotions flash through Sam's overly expressive ocean colored eyes and felt his heart twinge. "Sam…" he started and suddenly Sam was sitting next to him on the bed, his hip resting near Dean's on the white linens.

"I'm so sorry Dean." Sam rushed as he saw that his brother was losing the battle with the drugs that he had seen doctor give him. "I didn't mean it….not any of it." A tear slipped down his cheek and he looked down at Dean's bandaged hands… "I don't hate you…I could never hate you…I was just so…mad." He sputtered and then watched as Dean swallowed a lump of emotions and gently brought his fingers to Sam's face…wiping the errant tears away. Sam was so choked up now…that he couldn't find a way to continue around the tightness in his throat. He leaned into the warmth of his brother's hand instead.

"It's okay Sammy…I don't blame you." Dean said tightly. Sam was a little startled by the intensity in his brother's eyes as he watched his words sink passed Sam's guilt.

"You should." Sam said quietly. He couldn't understand how it was that his brother seemed capable of forgiving anything and everything that he did. Dean never held anything against Sam. And just this once Sam almost wished he had…because knowing what his brother had gone through and how quickly he'd forgiven his little brother for his rash outburst just made Sam feel like a complete ass.

Dean's eyes softened ever further, if that was possible, and he moved his fingers so they tilted Sam's chin up and he had no choice but to look into those glimmering green pools. "Sammy…I forgive you." He said. He watched Sam as he furrowed his forehead and then nodded, a sniffle sneaking past his defenses. Dean's eyes dropped to his shoulder and then flickered back to Sam's face. "What happened?"

Sam looked down and then shrugged his good shoulder. "I guess we have a matching set…I had to have surgery too."

Dean's eyes narrowed in a pained expression as he immediately realized that his little brother had been hurt trying to rescue him. He hated that that had happened…and that his brother was injured because of him…because he hadn't been strong enough to get himself out of a rotten situation. "Because of me…?" Dean asked sadly.

Sam immediately saw where this was going…his martyr of an older brother was going to blame himself for Sam's injured shoulder…like he'd shot Sam or something. "NO…Dean, this isn't your fault." He said vehemently.

Dean could feel his focus slipping further as the medication forced his mind to shut down…he blinked owlishly at Sam and then against his will…his eyelids slipped shut and his labored breathing evened out.

Sam watched in frustration as Dean slipped into sleep…he sighed and he moved to sit in his chair again, grabbing the remote once more. His mind kept playing their conversation over and over in his head as he waited for their father to show back up. How could Dean think that Sam's life or his safety was somehow more important than Dean's own? Had he and their father really pushed his brother so far down that road that he couldn't even see how much they both needed him? His thoughts continued to run amuck as he waited…eventually he leaned the back of the chair down and settled in as he felt his own eyes growing heavy…after all he too was on pain medication.

XXXX

A man sitting in front of a computer narrowed his eyes as he read about the ongoing investigation that had broken up a torture…fight ring in Alabama. His gaze flickered to several other monitors as he watched the signal bounce the IP address from satellite to satellite. The article stated that there was a witness…several actually…all of them boys that had been involved and would be called to testify in the coming months. He reached beneath his desk and pulled out a .45 caliber glock…slowly he spun the silencer onto the barrel and then glanced over at the article again. 'One of the tortured young men has been sent to a nearby hospital in Alabama…he has yet to regain consciousness…but is expected to be the primary witness in both the investigation and the prosecution of this case.'

_Not if I have anything to say about it…_He thought, the cold determination pumping through his system, as he watched the computer. There were two other boys that would be brought in for questioning throughout the investigation, several bodies were discovered inside the grisly camp...'some of them belonging to teenage boys'. The man grabbed the leather badge holder off his desk and the jacket off his chair. It appeared he was going to have to pay a visit to Alabama…and ensure that none of these so called _witnesses_ was in a condition to testify…because that so wouldn't play into his future plans.

TBC…

**Author's Note****_:_**_ So it occurred to me that if they were pushing this out over the internet, someone was hiding their signal and keeping the address private. So if this man wasn't arrested, and he knew about the boys…chances are pretty good that he's coming after them…including our favorite middle Winchester. Thanks so very very very much to all the 'guest' reviewers and anyone that left their own review with a pen name, but that I can't PM__. They have been incredibly inspiring and keep me pushing this story out an alarming pace…even for me. Please keep them coming. More to come._

**Please Review: I can honestly say that this has been the most amazing response that I have received for a story…thank you so much. I am still looking forward to seeing how you like this little twist.**


	10. Trauma of the Mind

**Legalities: **_Supernatural does not belong to me, although I wish it did. I am simply playing in Kripke's sandbox for a bit. All rights and ownership are the property of Kripke and the CW network. I am not making any money from this; it is for my own personal pleasure._

**Synopsis:** _Dean is taken after a fight with a fifteen year old Sam. Clues are scarce and Sam is barely holding it together as he and their father search frantically for the middle Winchester…before the people holding him…torture him to death or force him to participate in a sick little game that they've been engaging in for years with unsuspecting young male tourists._

**Idea:** This little fiction has a storyline, but it is unabashed hurt!Dean with extremely angsty!Sam and worried!John. It will contain graphic depictions of torture as the story unfolds…if you don't like to read this type of thing, or if you are going to flame it…don't read it. _This is purely a selfish little piece_ that I decided to share.

**Please Review: Thank you so much to all of you that reviewed the previous chapter. It was great to hear what you thought. Thank you to all 'Guest' reviewers that I cannot PM. Please continue letting me know what you think. You guys are AMAZING! Thanks for all the awesome reviews...I love them...and they've been instrumental in how fast this story is getting updated...so thanks again.**

**_Also, this is a very dark little piece of fiction, so please read all warnings at the start of the chapters, because there will be depictions of torture, so be prepared and don't read it if you're not into this type of thing._**

**Chapter Ten**

_Trauma of the Mind_

Dean was sitting up in his small single hospital bed, he still hadn't been released from the ICU ward…he'd had a mild seizure that second day and that had held up his transfer to a regular ward. The fingers of his right hand were currently playing idly with the white linen sheets as he stared into the intentionally darkened room…even though it was about 6 am; his room was dark and quiet.

The doctor had told him that they would be performing the surgery on his shoulder this afternoon and the mere thought of someone coming near him with a knife…even a scalpel while he was sedated made his stomach turn uncomfortably.

Dean was able to stay awake for longer periods of time now and they felt that this was their best chance to correct the damage before the scar tissue really started to build up. His head still hurt most mornings and he found that he couldn't look into direct light yet, but he was improving…everyday…or so they kept telling him. He'd avoided mirrors like the plague…Dean had no intention of looking to see what those bastards had done to him…he could see quite enough just looking down at his chest and at the bandages wrapping his feet.

And if he was improving so much...If that was true…then why couldn't he stop jumping whenever anyone got too close? Why was he nervous almost all the time? Like this whole nightmare wasn't finished with him yet…his thoughts moving aimlessly between images of being diced open like a box of julienne fries…or his lungs exploding as they craved oxygen and the cold water pulled him into its fathomless depths.

It had been five days…five days since he'd woken up and was able to remember the horrific events of that, almost lost, eleven days. And he still couldn't bring himself to talk about it…not with the doctors…not with his father…and certainly not with Sam. He sighed as he remembered the broken look on his little brother's face when he'd begged Dean for forgiveness. Which he had immediately given…he really didn't blame Sam for the fight they'd had. But the memory of Sam telling him he hated him…that just wouldn't stop plaguing his waking thoughts…and torture wouldn't allow him the respite of a non-medicated sleep.

Sam had always been prone to saying exactly what he thought…and truthfully it was one of the things that Dean loved most about his overly smart little brother. But when he'd thought that those might be the last words he heard out of Sam's mouth…it had torn something inside of Dean and now he wondered how he went about fixing that Grand Canyon sized chasm?

He could still remember a seven year old Sam crawling into his bed after one of the many nightmares the kid had suffered from when he was younger. Sam would wake him up and ask for a story…anything…it just had to have a happy ending. And then the kid would fall asleep curled up next to his big brother and Dean would carefully move him back to his own bed before crawling back into his own. But sleep almost never came quickly for him on those nights…half remembered visions of the fire and his mother would keep him staring at the ceiling for hours. His little brother's breathing would even out and become a light sound across the small distance between their beds.

Dean never told Sam that those nights…the ones where Sammy was scared and looking for comfort...were some of his favorite and his worst memories of growing up the way they had. There were so many mornings that Dean woke up with bags beneath his eyes and a slight headache from the lack of sleep, as Sam had bounced around the motel or small apartment full of energy and wanting to play.

Sam's first day of school had been harder on Dean than on Sam. The kid had practically bounded into the kindergarten room, his back pack slung over both shoulders, his smile wide and inviting as he looked around the brightly colored room. He'd spied a desk right up front and marched right up, dropping into it with all the authority he could muster at the tender age of five. Dean had watched silently from the small window in the door, waiting for Sam to ask for him…waiting to be needed again…but Sam never asked and Dean had eventually trudged off to his own third grade class.

As Sam progressed in school and it became almost painfully apparent to Dean that his little brother was a flat-out genius, he had stopped waiting for his brother to 'ask' for him. If Sam got stuck on a problem in a subject, Dean would stay up long after Sam had gone to sleep and figure out his little brother's homework for the next day…always a chapter ahead. Just in case Sammy might possibly need his help. Sure his own school work had suffered, not because he wasn't smart and didn't understand how to do it…but because he was more worried about making sure that Sam's was top notch.

All of these little things…these things that Dean would take to his grave, were now making it difficult to comprehend that his little brother might hold a bit of a grudge against him. It wasn't like he was looking for a thank you or anything…just…hell, he didn't even know what he wanted from Sam...not at this point.

His thoughts were interrupted by the subject of them as his door slid open quietly and Dean's eyes flickered up as he watched the slender form of his brother slip slowly into his room. John had finally put his foot down and all but _forced_ Sam to take a break, to go and get some sleep, and maybe go grab some food that wasn't hospital issue or the color of concrete.

Sam's face broke into an immediate grin when he saw that Dean was awake. "Morning." Sam said quietly as he sank into the chair, that by now had probably formed a pretty good impression of his ass. His right shoulder was still in the sling, secured against his body to keep from shifting the work of the surgeon. "You feeling okay today?"

Dean nodded ever so slightly and then shrugged with his right shoulder. "Sure…got surgery this afternoon…my days filling up." His voice was resigned while the comment was a bit on the sarcastic side.

Sam raised an eyebrow at him and then furrowed his forehead. "Shoulder?" he asked.

Dean nodded. "Guess they think I'm strong enough to chance cutting me open again…" He flinched at his own words as the memories of what Kale had done to him flashed through his mind. Sam saw the reaction but chose to allow his brother the illusion that he hadn't. "Where's dad?" Dean continued when his brother remained silent.

Sam snorted. "He's helping Bobby on something…guess they found some sort of hunt one town over…vengeful spirit or something. He'll be in a little later. Does he know about the surgery?"

Dean swallowed hard and shook his head. "Na..doctor just informed me this morning." He looked at the empty desk next to his bed. "And I don't' exactly have a cell phone." He cringed as he realized that he'd managed to let that bastard take one more thing from him.

"Speaking of…" Sam reached into his sling and pulled out Dean's silver flip phone, gently setting it on the rolling tray. "Found this in the Impala…kept meaning to get it back to you." His face was soft and he looked up at his brother with those wounded eyes…and Dean just couldn't quite help the slight smile that pulled at his lips.

"And speaking of baby…how is my car?" Dean hadn't realized until that moment that he hadn't asked anyone about the state of his beloved chevy…not since this whole thing had happened.

Now it was Sam's turn to smile. "I wondered when you'd remember." He wriggled his eyebrows at his older brother, thinking of the almost inappropriate bond Dean had with the restored black classic. "It's fine Dean. No harm to the precious clear coat or anything."

Dean nodded, his heart slowing down as he watched the slight twinkle in Sam's blue-green eyes as he shook his head in mock disgust. "Okay…good." Dean said easily. He shifted to try and alleviate the building pain in his back, but that just made his front hurt…no wonder he couldn't seem to sleep…every time he closed his eyes his body painfully reminded him of why he was here in the first place.

Sam saw the subtle shift in Dean's face, his older brother wasn't hiding his emotions as well as he usually did…hadn't been since this whole thing ended. "Did dad say anything to you about what we're going to do once they release you?" Sam asked, he was picking at the soft blue cotton of his sling and peaking up at Dean through the fringe of his bangs.

Dean was a little caught off guard by that…he hadn't even thought about it. Once they released him…he'd assumed that things would go back to normal. A thing he desperately wanted…to get back to being normal. "Uh…no actually…dad hasn't said a word about it…why? Did he say something to you?"

Sam blew out a long breath and then looked Dean straight in the eyes. "Yeah…I think we are going to stay with Bobby for a while. That way you can attend physical therapy and so can I…plus school is starting in a month…and I gotta get registered somewhere." He said it so matter-of-factly that Dean just stared at him in question. _They were going to stay with Bobby? Didn't their father want him around anymore? Didn't he need Dean's help?_ The thoughts flew through his head and Dean was unprepared for the emotional backlash as he sank further into the bed and turned from Sam's now concerned visage. "Dean? You okay?" He asked quietly.

"Yeah…yeah I'm fine Sam…just tired." Dean lied. How could he have become a burden like this? How did he get on top of this whole thing and prove to his father that he was capable of carrying his end of the family business. He could feel the anger rolling like thunder…just beneath the surface of his own self-loathing and he hated it…but he wasn't sure how to make it go away.

Sam seemed unconvinced but he let it go and watched as his brother turned from him. He still didn't know exactly what Dean was thinking…or what he wasn't voicing. But a part of Sam knew that even if he asked, Dean wasn't likely to tell him. He'd have to figure it out on his own. _Goody…we're almost back to normal._ Sam thought with slight irritation, he settle back into the chair and cast his eyes at the small tv.

XXXX

Sam had called their father and let him know about Dean's surgery. John had been worried, but he and Bobby were so close to finishing the job, that he told Sam to call him if there were any complications. Sam had wanted to argue, but Dean was asleep in the bed next to him…and he'd made a promise to that silent form…so he just told his dad he'd let him know when Dean came out of the surgical procedure.

Dean hadn't said anything else to Sam until they were wheeling him out and his wide green eyes had searched out Sam's worried face. "I'll be fine Sammy…" he said quietly and then he was gone. Sam had wandered down to the cafeteria in search of coffee and maybe a sandwich and then he'd made his way to the surgical waiting area. Another woman was waiting and she smiled shyly at him as he sank into the empty chair at the other end of the room. She was watching the news and Sam found his eyes being pulled as he heard the story unfolding through the speakers.

'_Sources say that the fight ring that was broken up nearly two weeks ago has had further complications. Investigators have been called to look into the murder of two surviving witnesses. Both teens were held against their will and forced to participate in the gladiatorial type event. While sources can't confirm if these murders are related to the ongoing investigation of that story…they can confirm that without the witnesses, it is likely that all persons arrested may be released due to lack of solid evidence. We have since learned that there is a potential witness still out there…however, at this time we have been unable to discern their location. We will continue to update this story as the facts become available…and now onto the…'_

Sam had stared open mouthed at the flat screen. _Someone had murdered the other boys…and now the only one left was Dean?_ So that meant that his brother was in danger…again. Sam lurched to his feet, his sandwich falling forgotten at his feet and he fumbled in his pocket for his phone. This whole doing things left handed, when he was completely right handed, was really starting to irk him.

He dialed his father's number and waited as the damn thing rang four times and then flipped over to voicemail. 'Damn-it dad.' Sam thought as the panic started to course through his veins.

"Dad, this is Sam…you _need_ to call me. There's a problem and it involves Dean." He didn't want to say any more, because what if he somehow tipped off the person that probably wanted to kill his older brother.

Sam's nerves were a wreck by the time the doctor came back to let him know that Dean had come through surgery fine. He'd had an episode on the table, but Dr. Rivera wouldn't elaborate without their father there. Sam asked when he could see Dean, and he was told that his brother would be brought back to his room as soon as he woke up from the anesthesia. So he'd thrown out the unopened food, no longer hungry, and grabbed his coffee before heading back to wait in Dean's small room.

This really couldn't be happening…he had just gotten Dean back…and now there was a new threat? Sam reached around and patted the comforting outline of the gun tucked into his jeans near his lower back. As he considered that he might have to protect his brother again, he was intensely grateful that his father had forced both of them to learn to shoot with either hand. He'd always told them that one never knew when that particular skill would come in handy.

When an hour later, Dean still hadn't been brought back to the room, Sam got scared and he went looking for his brother. He passed the nurse's station, watching carefully as they turned their backs and continued to work on their own projects. He knew that they wouldn't likely allow him in this restricted area. But what they didn't know…they couldn't stop. He slipped silently through the doors and then scooted along the wall, his eyes watching for obstacles...and nurses...

He finally saw the sign for recovery and he headed quickly in that direction. Sam immediately had his nose pressed to the glass, his panic growing when he didn't immediately see Dean's sleeping body. He shifted to get a better look and was finally able to catch a glimpse of dark blonde hair and the stubbled face of his older brother. "Oh thank God…" he muttered and then turned watching as a male nurse approached. He had short dark hair and intelligent cold gray eyes, his nametag said his name was David and he was walking right toward Sam.

"You know you're not supposed to be in here kid." The guy said evenly as he glanced into the recovery room.

"I was just looking for my brother. He had surgery and I was worried when they didn't bring him right back….sorry." He didn't sound very sorry, but he did look worried so the nurse simply nodded and asked which one Sam was here to check on. Sam pointed at Dean's form, which was starting to shift as he pulled himself out of the anesthesia.

"Okay, he looks like he's coming around, why don't I wheel him back to his room…and you can tag along." The guy said with a slight smile as he stared at the boy on the other side of the glass.

Sam nodded his agreement and watched as the guy stepped into the room and then followed Sam back to Dean's assigned room a moment later, silently pushing the rolling bed through the nearly empty hallways of the small hospital.

"This is it." Sam said as he pushed the door open and the nurse rolled Dean in…his eyes just starting to flutter open and a groan escaping through chapped lips.

"Okay…I'll come by later an check up on him." The nurse said reluctantly as he watched Sam settle into the chair with the obvious intention of not going anywhere in the near future.

Sam waived him off with his good hand and watched as his brother's green eyes finally made an appearance. And he smiled slightly at the sight of Sam sitting patiently by his bedside. "Hey Dean." Sam muttered. The feeling of unease was not leaving him and it had him a little on edge as he looked at his brother's currently vulnerable state.

Dean blinked at him owlishly as he licked his lips and then moved a little, testing the pain level in his shoulder. It was manageable… "Hey, Sammy." He said quietly. The rough quality to his voice returning after being under for the surgery…he looked at the mug of water complete with a straw that was sitting on his table and then his eyes flickered over to Sam.

Sam immediately sat forward and placed the mug within easy reach and Dean's eyes silently thanked him as he pulled a long slow sip of the cool water. "You doing okay?" He asked as he set the mug back on the bed and Sam grabbed it and placed it back on the table.

"Yeah…I'm fine." Sam said. The news report he'd seen pulsing around in his head…he still hadn't heard from his father…and he wondered whether or not he should say something to Dean. But as he watched the slow rise and fall of Dean's heavy eyelids he decided against it and settled in to keep watch over the middle Winchester. He silently hoped that his father would call him back quickly…because he needed to know that someone else was going to be keeping an eye on the hospital… Pastor Jim floated through his thoughts but he decided that since the other man was probably with both Bobby and his father, there really wasn't much point in trying to contact him either.

"Why don't I believe you Sammy…?" Dean whispered; his green eyes catching the worried expression on his brother's face.

"Huh…what was that Dean?" Sam asked as he realized that his brother had said something that he had completely missed.

Dean shook his head and let his eyes fall shut. He was relatively sure that his younger brother wouldn't allow anything to happen to him…so he let his mind slip off into the beckoning abyss.

XXXX

John Winchester was cursing the stupidity of people in general as he pressed a piece of cloth to his sluggishly bleeding temple. Damn bad construction on that set of stairs, which lead into the basement of an old school...had given out and he'd tumbled several feet before coming to a less than graceful stop at the bottom.

He and Bobby had finally managed to track down the chalkboard that the spirit had attached itself to…both men had struggled to get the heavy board out and then burn it before the spirit could appear again. Jim had shot the thing with the salt gun and the two other hunters had completed the necessary salting and dousing of the thing in fuel…watching with narrowed eyes as it burst into flames and the spirit howled her anger before fire engulfed her too.

John hadn't realized that he'd put his phone on silent…as he pulled the thing out and stared at the missed calls…all from Sam. His heart rate picked up quickly as he listened to the three messages that his youngest son had left. The first explaining that the surgery had gone well, although he'd watched a news report that sent a cold flood of fear coursing through John's system. The second and the third were more of the same, letting him know that he would be staying with Dean until his father could return…but that this thing with the camp…it might not be over yet.

"Bobby! We have to go, now!" He called as he pulled open the heavy door of his truck and tried to call Sam back…no answer.

TBC…

**Author's Note:** _Sorry for the cliff hanger and the angst in this one. But Dean would probably continue to beat himself up and of course there would be emotional repercussions as a result of being tortured. Particularly for a person that felt that they should have been strong enough to stop it…or smart enough to not get trapped in the first place. I only have two more chapters for this story…so hang in there. Thank you so much for all the amazing reviews, both from guests and other individuals with pen names._

**Please Continue to Review: They have really been amazingly motivating and I appreciate them so much.**


	11. The Universe is Trying to Kill Me

**Legalities: **_Supernatural does not belong to me, although I wish it did. I am simply playing in Kripke's sandbox for a bit. All rights and ownership are the property of Kripke and the CW network. I am not making any money from this; it is for my own personal pleasure._

**Synopsis:** _Dean is taken after a fight with a fifteen year old Sam. Clues are scarce and Sam is barely holding it together as he and their father search frantically for the middle Winchester…before the people holding him…torture him to death or force him to participate in a sick little game that they've been engaging in for years with unsuspecting young male tourists._

**Idea:** This little fiction has a storyline, but it is unabashed hurt!Dean with extremely angsty!Sam and worried!John. It will contain graphic depictions of torture as the story unfolds…if you don't like to read this type of thing, or if you are going to flame it…don't read it. _This is purely a selfish little piece_ that I decided to share.

**Please Review: Thank you so much to all of you that reviewed the previous chapter. It was great to hear what you thought. Thank you to all 'Guest' reviewers that I cannot PM. Please continue letting me know what you think. You guys are AMAZING! Thanks for all the awesome reviews...I love them...and they've been instrumental in how fast this story is getting updated...so thanks again.**

**_Also, this is a very dark little piece of fiction, so please read all warnings at the start of the chapters, because there will be depictions of torture, so be prepared and don't read it if you're not into this type of thing._**

**Chapter Eleven**

_The Universe Is Trying to Kill Me_

Dean didn't know what woke him up…the dreams, that had plagued him since waking up in the hospital, had left him alone on this particular night and he'd been grateful for that as he'd managed to sleep for several hours undisturbed. The pleasant floating sensation started to evaporate as he felt his bodies pull toward awareness. He pushed his heavy eyelids open and then was immediately looking around for Sam…something in his heart stuttered when he realized that his little brother wasn't in his usual spot...the chair next to Dean's bed. He swallowed and then blinked several times to clear the burning sensation behind his eyes_. How long was he going to be such a girl about this whole torture thing? _The irritating thought flashed through his head before he could stop it and he closed his eyes concentrating on pulling in small breaths...his lung still weak and a little painful..._but at least they removed that damn chest tube..._He reflected.

Sam had been an almost constant presence over the last several days and the sudden absence of his little brother caused a bit of a panic attack as Dean struggled to sit up. The pain was a little better, and he found that he could at least shift without wanting to bite through his own lip. He glanced at the small clock on the wall and noticed that it was a little after 3 am…_so seriously…where was Sam?_ He wondered as he glanced up at the channel playing quietly in the background.

The door to his room inched open and Dean felt his breathing slow as he assumed that it was Sam coming back from the cafeteria. As his green eyes flickered up automatically, he started and a chill ran through him, when he immediately knew that the body that had entered his room…was _definitely not_ his lanky fifteen year old brother. This guy was broad through the shoulders and he was shorter than either Sam or Dean…but he looked solid enough to cause damage if needed.

"Hello…Dean." The man said easily, the name tag reading 'David', as he glanced back out into the hallway and then allowed the door to fall shut behind himself. The guy walked around Dean's bed, his eyes never leaving the injured hunter as he looked down at the emergency call button and immediately pulled the wires from the wall.

Dean's heart started pumping overtime as he watched the guy effectively take away his only way of notifying someone of a problem…oh sure, he could scream…but Dean Winchester did _not_ scream. "What do you want?" Dean whispered as the guy grabbed a plastic chair and slid it over next to the bed, twirling it around and straddling it as he stared at Dean with interest. An extremely nervous flutter flipped Dean's stomach over as he watched the man pull a syringe from his scrubs and before Dean could stop him, he'd depressed the fluid into his IV.

A warm loopy feeling flooded Dean as he tried to focus on the man…he kept wondering where Sammy was…what if this guy had hurt his brother? Was that why Sammy wasn't in the room? Keeping a silent vigil over his big brother?

The man waited for a few more moments and then he smiled, his dark eyes glittering as he watched the medication take effect. The kid's pupils became unfocused and he stared out of his own personal prison with wide green eyes as he fought to maintain his lucidity. "There now…isn't that better?" He asked as he pulled a small scalpel from his pocket and twisted it easily in his hands. "This way we can _talk_ without all those pesky interruptions…like security or screaming." He chuckled and reached out to run the blade lightly over Dean's bandage hands. The white tape splitting under the razor sharp edge of the small silver blade.

Dean's throat closed as fear began to course through him…all he could see was Kale and the panic that those memories elicited was sending him into an almost catatonic state…_of course it could be whatever the guy injected him with too_. He wasn't exactly sure, but whatever it had been, he was now unable to control the random shifting of his thoughts…Sam's face kept appearing before his eyes each time he blinked.

"So Dean…I have a problem…" The man had reached down and was removing the cut bandage as he talked.

Dean couldn't understand just what the hell was wrong with him…he was aware of what the man was doing and he knew that he _should_ fight…but it was like he had no control over his body. He was trapped inside his head, he could feel everything, but his muscles weren't listening to him as he screamed at them to fight…or move…something.

The man stood up and moved around to the other side, performing the same act on Dean's left wrist as it lay motionless against his chest. The sling securing it to his body to avoid further injuries. "You see…Dean…may I call you Dean?" The guy chuckled and continued. "What am I thinking of course I can…I mean we're almost old friends. You just don't know me."

Dean's eyes widened further as tried desperately to place the man…he was pretty sure he'd never seen this guy…ever. He blinked as the bandage was removed from this wrist as well, and then the guy unfastened the sling and pulled Dean's arm down so it was lying at his side…similar to his right arm. Tears sprang to his eyes as pain lanced through his system and he opened his mouth…only to find it immediately covered by the guy's hand.

"No, no, no…Dean." He said quietly and then pulled a handkerchief from his other pocket and tied it tightly around his head. "Not yet…I'm not finished…" He walked slowly back to his chair and pick up the abandoned silver blade before turning back to stare at the figure in the bed. "You see…Silas and I we were partners…he found the talent…and I broad-cast it…and we were all happy." His eyes narrowed and then filled with sudden anger. "And then they _took_ you….and everything fell apart…and now…well I'm afraid that I can't have any witness out there." He reached down and picked up Dean's right hand, his fingers pressing into the delicate bones.

Dean's face screwed up with pain again as the man pressed hard enough that there was an audible crack as one of the bones gave way. Dean was screaming inside his own skull…but nothing…not a trace of sound slipped past his bound lips. What the hell had this guy given him anyways…part of Dean prayed that wherever Sam was that he wouldn't come back until this was finished…what if this guy hurt…or worse killed Sam for interrupting.

"So I'm afraid I have to take you out…just like the other two boys. Nothing personal here kid…just covering my own ass." He said as he brought the blade to the soft underside of Dean's wrist.

_Why is it that you bastards keep saying this isn't personal? It's totally fucking personal to me!_ He thought in anguish as he felt the fiery pull of the blade on his skin. It started near his wrist and the man pulled it toward his elbow cutting length wise…as though Dean had tried to commit suicide…like on some crappy Lifetime movie or something. The blood welled up and the guy immediately repeated the action to the other wrist…blood pooling onto Dean's now, stained, crimson sheets.

The guy immediately set the blade near Dean's right hand…so it appeared as though he'd done this to himself. Dean's head was swimming as he felt the blood draining rapidly from his body, black spots danced in front of his eyes and they were just falling closed when he heard the door slam open.

XXXX

John's eyes took in the sight in front of him and he thought he was going to be sick. Dean was lying in a rapidly growing pool of bright red arterial blood. His mouth gagged with a strip of cloth and a man in light blue scrubs setting a scalpel near his eldest son's hand.

When asked later, John wouldn't be able to recall the exact moments after he raced into his boy's hospital room. John slammed full speed into the nurse throwing all his substantial body weight behind the action, his shoulder catching the man square in the chest…Bobby was right behind him and then there was Sam. His gaze falling immediately on the precarious hold the middle Winchester had on life as his blood continued to pump quickly onto the floor.

Sam was right on the older hunter's heels, he'd gone down to meet his father and show him the new room that Dean had been moved to. "Sam! Get a doctor, now!" Bobby cried as he tore the kid from his shocked silence. He was grabbing the edges of the cotton blanket and securing it around one of Dean's wrists as John struggled with the man that just tried to lighten world one Winchester male.

"You bastard!" John cried as he slammed the guy's head into the railing at the end of Dean's bed. Before collapsing to the floor the guy managed to stab the scalpel, which he'd grabbed when he was surprised by the men bursting into the room, deep into John's thigh. He groaned in pain but pounded the man's head into the metal frame several more times before allowing the guy to drop limply to the floor.

Doctor's and several nurse's raced into the room, their eyes going wide as they took in the scene. The patient was bleeding heavily from both wrists…the father was stumbling toward the bed, with one of their scalpels imbedded deep into his right thigh. Two other men were trying frantically to stop the blood and the youngest son was calling softly to his brother as tears streamed down his face. In other words…it was absolute chaos.

"Dean…come on Dean…" Sam called frantically. He was pushed out of the way as the medical professionals took over and then immediately wheeled Dean's bed out of the room headed straight to surgery to repair the deep incisions in his wrists. Sam chocked back a sob as he watched his brother taken from him, his knees giving out as he sank down onto the tile floor.

Another nurse had taken charge of John, trying to calm the raging father as he stared daggers at the currently beaten and very unconscious man sprawled on the cold white floor. He limped over to Sam and gently grasped his son's good arm, ignoring his own pain as he pulled him back to his feet. John couldn't stand seeing his son sitting brokenly in a pool of his older brother's blood. "Sammy…" John said as he gathered the youth against his chest. The same way he was aching to do with his eldest son…if the universe would stop trying to kill the kid for five damn minutes.

"Oh God…dad…there's so much blood…" Sam whispered. The tears soaking into John's cotton t-shirt. It had been hard knowing what Dean had already gone through…but now they were right back to wondering if he was going to make it. The stain of crimson on the floor was fucking _huge_ as far as Sam was concerned and he found that he kept seeing the grey pallor of Dean's skin as they took him away.

"Sir…we need to get you to a room and stop the bleeding…" A nurse said. They both glanced up as two uniformed police officers bustled into the room, grabbing the unconscious man and then gasping as they recognized him.

"Who is he?" John asked when he saw recognition flood their faces. He wanted the man dead…if they hadn't been inside of a hospital, where it would have been difficult to dispose of the body, he would have killed the man the instant he touched him.

"Agent Grey…with the FBI…he was investigating that fighting case along with another fellow that he had sent back to DC…three days ago." A young officer said in a rather shocked voice. "Sir, when you're up to it…we are going to need a statement."

John nodded and watched as they hauled the man away…his anger still churning…if he'd been five minutes later…a chill raced through him and his chest constricted at what he would have found. His boy…lying in a pool of his own blood…and ruled as a suicide…and Sam and John? They never would have known differently…they would have thought that the torture had been too much for Dean to handle. As he felt Sam's chest heave against his own…he wondered whether or not either of them would have survived that? The loss of Dean…somehow he didn't think they would have been okay…not at all.

XXXX

Sam was seated in another chair…in yet another room as he watched Dean's silent pale form. His eyes flickered down to the large white bandages that now extended from his brother's wrists to his elbows. Covering the long incisions and the stitches needed to close the substantial wounds. His brother had almost died like four times in two weeks and Sam was finding it difficult to reconcile himself to that fact. The pain at the thought of having only his father in this world was agonizing…that he wouldn't have his big brother there in the audience when he graduated from high school…or when he got accepted into college. A silent tear rolled down his face and Sam scrubbed angrily at it.

This life…they had to get out. He had to get out…and he had to figure out how to get his big brother to go with him…and maybe his father. Although he figured that as much as he loved his dad and as much as he knew that their father loved them…he didn't think that he _could_ give up this life.

"Sammy?" The small raspy voice that Sam would have recognized anywhere had him staggering to his feet and looking into the pale visage of his brother. Dean's glassy green eyes were watching him with concern as he looked at the white pallor of his little brother's face. "You….okay?"

Sam felt his resolve crumble and he allowed himself to sink onto Dean's bed, his good arm straining to hug his brother. The tears that he'd been sure he'd used up found new reserves and coursed down his face, dripping onto Dean's chest. "I thought I lost you…" he cried.

The feeling of Dean's right arm lifting to gently wrap his brother in a hug that he craved every bit as much as his brother started to bridge the chasm in his heart. "I'm not leaving you Sammy…not ever." He whispered.

TBC…

**Author's Note:** _Last chapter will be up tomorrow, so I hope you guys have enjoyed this little romp in the Dean whumage land…Thank you to everyone that read, followed, favorite, and especially those who took the time to review. All the resolution and feels that you could want in the last chapter. _

**Please Review: Please take a moment and tell me what you thought of this chapter. **


	12. Healing the Heart

**Legalities: **_Supernatural does not belong to me, although I wish it did. I am simply playing in Kripke's sandbox for a bit. All rights and ownership are the property of Kripke and the CW network. I am not making any money from this; it is for my own personal pleasure._

**Synopsis:** _Dean is taken after a fight with a fifteen year old Sam. Clues are scarce and Sam is barely holding it together as he and their father search frantically for the middle Winchester…before the people holding him…torture him to death or force him to participate in a sick little game that they've been engaging in for years with unsuspecting young male tourists._

**Idea:** This little fiction has a storyline, but it is unabashed hurt!Dean with extremely angsty!Sam and worried!John. It will contain graphic depictions of torture as the story unfolds…if you don't like to read this type of thing, or if you are going to flame it…don't read it. _This is purely a selfish little piece_ that I decided to share.

**Please Review: Thank you so much to all of you that reviewed the previous chapter. It was great to hear what you thought. Thank you to all 'Guest' reviewers that I cannot PM. Please continue letting me know what you think. You guys are AMAZING! Thanks for all the awesome reviews...I love them...and they've been instrumental in how fast this story is getting updated...so thanks again.**

**_Also, this is a very dark little piece of fiction, so please read all warnings at the start of the chapters and don't read it if you're not into this type of thing._**

**Chapter Twelve**

_Healing the Heart_

John had slipped into his son's room and quietly caught the last of the conversation between Sam and Dean…he felt his heart clench at the thought of them being separated…even by death. He had ensured that they were so dependent on one another that now was it starting to occur to him that they might actually be a little _too_ co-dependent. But as he watched the affection fill Dean's watery green eyes, he couldn't bring himself to regret how close his boys were. He supposed that having their mother taken at such a young age and then his inability to walk away from the hunt for the demon or any hunt for that matter…had probably contributed heavily to their unusually strong bond.

He coughed lightly to announce his presence and then limped over to Dean's bed, the slight pain in his leg a reminder of how close he had come to losing his oldest son…John settled his hip on the side Sam hadn't claimed. "How you feeling, dude?" He asked as his sharp blue gaze raked over his eldest son's body looking for any damage that the doctors might have missed. Dean managed a slow almost painful looking smile before he rasped out an answer.

"I'm ready…to leave this town…" His eyes were sincere as he stared at his father and then they flickered over to where Sam was nodding fervently. Dean had come to the conclusion that he _hated _the wilderness and he wouldn't be agreeing to any hunts that would have him traipsing through the forest for a long time…well maybe a Wendigo…but that was it…nothing else.

"Yeah…I know what you mean." John said as he gently squeezed Dean's ankle in affection. "Me too…worst two weeks of my life." He said quietly. And they had been…some of the worst days John had suffered through since the loss of his beloved Mary and the discovery of what exactly had stolen her from their small family.

Dean stared up at his father in surprise. The man almost never talked about his feelings and he sure as hell didn't talk about them to his boys. And this was the closest thing that Dean had ever seen to an admission of fear on the part of his hero…a.k.a. dad. It made his heart warm to know that he seemed to be an integral part of their team…sometimes he wondered just what exactly his place was. But as he saw the wealth of emotions swirling behind his father's blue eyes, Dean knew that he was needed…and for the first time in a long time…he felt needed too.

"Dean…I don't know what Sam and I would have done without you…" John's voice choked up and he had to stop for a minute and turn to collect his rising emotions. John licked his lips and turned back to the worried emerald gaze. "We need you Dean-both of us…we need you." His voice was thick and rough, but he managed to get the words out.

Sam turned and looked down at Dean's face and he nodded, biting at his own lower lip in an attempt to cut off the flood of tears he could feel building again. _Man, maybe I am turning into a girl…_he thought miserably as the lump in his throat increased and he coughed to lessen the strain. He reached out and gently placed his long fingers on the stark white of the bandage covering Dean's right forearm…the left one again secured to his chest to immobilize his shoulder. "Dean, I'm sorry…for the things I said—and for not being there – The sight of his brother unconscious as his blood drained from his body was still haunting Sam…and he knew that he needed to say something. While Dean hated to talk things out, it was how Sam dealt with emotional turmoil. So his older brother would just have to suffer through.

Bobby's head poked through the door and he slid in at John's nod of approval. "Hey'ya kid…how you feeling?" He reached up and removed his old truckers cap and ran his fingers through his greying hair before replacing it and smiling down and the injured young hunter.

"I'm okay, Bobby…" He answered quietly. The normally boisterous tone of his voice missing as the drugs he'd been given and the loss of blood claimed their penance. Dean blinked slowly as his green eyes shifted around the room at the people in his life that loved him…sometimes in this life it was easy to forget that. That there _were_ people that loved and cared whether or not he came home from a hunt.

"That's good boy. Cuz, I got an old Camaro that I could use your help with out at the yard…soon as you're feeling better." Bobby's own emotions were riding pretty close to the surface as he looked fondly at the kid that was as close to a son as he would ever get. His blue eyes flickered over to the younger brother and he felt the same warmth flood his chest as he saw the slight smile playing at the youth's lips. "I could use both your help. Sam, I got a new load of books that could use some looking over…"

John's face fell as he understood what was happening here. He knew that he couldn't avoid hunting for much longer, he was too close to finding that damn demon. The plan had already been in motion, sending the boys to recover at Bobby's where they could attend physical therapy and heal without the constant worry of attack. But it still hurt…knowing that he couldn't provide that security. And this whole event with Dean…well, it had driven that home with a vengeance. He sighed and pulled in a steadying breath as Dean's eyes slipped up to his and understanding dawned on the injured boy.

Dean looked over at Sam and then back to his father…his head tipped forward in the slightest, letting John know that he understood the reasons…and that while he didn't like it…he did _agree_ with it.

XXXX

Dean glanced around the small hospital room, ensuring that he hadn't forgotten anything…he'd never been so glad to be leaving a city as he was this one…actually the entire state. The constant pain behind his eyes causing him to close them briefly as he breathed through the uncomfortable pressure. He'd always been restless, but the events of the last three and a half weeks had been harrowing to say the least. He wanted to pace, it the slivers of pain in his feet kept him routed to his spot by the bed.

The room was bright with the soft yellow early morning light that had filtered through the opened slats of the wooden blinds. Sam had walked to the cafeteria to get some coffee, both for himself and for Dean. It had taken some fancy talking on Dean's part to get the kid to leave him alone for a few minutes. Finally, he'd played the sympathy card, begging Sam for some coffee...

The doctor had wanted to talk with him…and Dean didn't want anyone to hear what he had to say. Because if there were going to be any future complications because of his kidnapping...he didn't want to burden his father or his little brother with it. He could figure it out on his own.

Dr. Rivera pushed the heavy door open and smiled slightly at the already packed bag of his patient. "Can't wait to get out of here, huh?" He asked. The ever present clipboard held loosely in his right hand and his warm brown eyes sincere as he looked at Dean.

Dean snorted. "I've never _been_ so ready to leave a place in my life...foods not exactly five star ya know...and no pie...that's a deal breaker for me." He said with a raised eyebrow and slight tilt to his lips.

"I'd imagine." The doctor said quickly. He glanced down at the discharge paperwork, pulling a pen from his pocket and scribbling some information before looking back at Dean. "So, here's the deal Dean. You're back is healing, but it will be painful for a while yet and you may need additional surgery to reduce the scarring. The same with the feet, make sure you wear those 'stupid little shoes'…I believe that's what you called them?" His eyes twinkled with mischief as Dean looked down in embarrassment, he hadn't realized that the doctor had heard his flippant comment about the soft blue shoes, lined in a soft felt. Dean reached up and picked at his hair as he nodded. "Well, I can't say that I disagree with you…they do leave a bit to be desired. But they will allow your feet to heal properly and honestly, it would hurt like hell to push your feet into a pair of boots."

"Okay." Dean said quietly as he listened to the extensive list of injuries and exactly what it would take for him to get back to his previous fighting shape. He already felt lazy for having missed workouts and training sessions with Sam for the last several weeks…and this wasn't helping him feel better about it. Obviously, he knew what his injuries were, having been present when they were 'oh so graciously' bestowed on him...but having them laid out like this, in black and white by the medical professional didn't feel too damn good.

"As far as your wrists and head go…keep those bandages on for another five days, and then go have the stitches removed. But, you will need to take it easy until they heal a bit more…you don't want to rip those open. The guy did a _really_ good job when he slit you open, the placement was perfect and without the quick intervention of your father…I'm not sure we could have saved you." Dr. Rivera's eyes hardened as he thought about how close he had come to losing a patient…inside his own hospital. They were already addressing the security measures to avoid something like this from happening again. "Your head…now that is something that you need to be aware of Dean…you suffered some pretty massive trauma and there is a possibility that there could be some chronic headaches or even severe migraines as a result of that. Surgery could help to correct that if it happens…but to be quite honest we don't want to cut into your head unless we absolutely have to. So what I need from you…I am transferring all your medical records to the hospital in Sioux Falls, and Dr. Thompson a friend of mine, will take charge of your case…Please let him know if you start to suffer from these…?" He narrowed his eyes in compassion as he watched his news stun the nineteen year old into silence and a mask of indifference slide into place.

Dean nodded. He hated this…he absolutely hated this. It hadn't occurred to him that there might be permanent damage to his body...or his brain. But at least now he understood why the doctor had asked to see him privately. He wouldn't want either, John and especially not Sam, knowing about this. It was something that he could deal with on his own…_thank you very much._

"I know you're a tough kid Dean. But I urge you to take this seriously because it could affect you in the future. And knowing you and your family…I think you need to be extra careful."

Dean nodded again, his face completely void of a reaction…the doctor sighed and patted him on the good shoulder. "They will also oversee your rehabilitation on that shoulder along with Sam's…" He handed the discharge papers to Dean and watched as he carefully signed his name. "Be careful Dean."

"Thanks doc." Dean managed as Sam came back through the door carrying two cups of steaming hot coffee. Sam's eyebrow's rose at the seeing the doctor in his brother's room, but he choose to stay quiet when he saw the passive look on Dean's face. If there was something wrong he would have been able to read it there…after all he was getting pretty good at reading his big brother.

**THE END**

**Author's Note:** _So lots of feels, love, and some angst in this final chapter…but…as always there would most likely be permanent repercussions after this type of event…so I couldn't rule that out. Plus the more I thought about it, I decided that I wanted to write a sequel to this that would deal with recoveries and Dean's physical condition as a result of his time at the camp and get the boys back into hunting. That story should go up before the end of the week, calling it 'Missing the Hunt'. It will be a series of regular hunts that will involve the boys and some John…and show how Dean gets back his hunter's instincts to become the secure and excellent hunter we meet in the Pilot episode. Hope that you guys enjoyed this story and will be on the lookout for the sequel. _

_Thank you to everyone that read and took the time to review this story, I have read each and every one and I appreciated them greatly. You guys ROCK!_

**Please Review: Last chapter…I know it leaves you wanting a little more…hence the sequel. Let me know** **if you are interested in seeing this continued…Thank you so much for the support.**


	13. Sequel

author's note:

The sequel to this story is now up. Please take the time to see where this little fiction headed as Dean struggles with his recovery and Sam struggles to understand why his brother doesn't seem to rely on him. The hunt will show up in about chapter three and will continue as the boys deal with their issues and Dean gets his stride back. Sequel is called, 'Missing the Hunt'.

Stryder2008


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